Write to Me
by lumoslit
Summary: Mourning the loss of his twin brother, George Weasley finds comfort in an unlikely source, Hermione Granger. Back in Hogwarts to take her NEWTs, she writes to her new friend. When Hermione receives bad news, it is George who is there to help her pick up the pieces. NaNoWriMo Project 2016
1. Chapter 1

_Hello! This is my NaNoWriMo project for 2016. I hope you enjoy it. It's my first full-length fanfiction so any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Chapter Two will be up tomorrow!_

 _Disclaimer: The characters and world of this story belong to JK Rowling. I am but playing with them._

 **Chapter One - Hermione**

It was strange to be back here, after everything that had happened. It seemed impossible to be having a first day of school again, with all the usual rituals that entailed, after everything that had happened in the last year. It seemed that things like this just shouldn't happen anymore. Things shouldn't be normal here after the battle, or without Harry and Ron.

Hermione unpacked her trunk slowly, marvelling at how this felt so familiar, so ordinary. She didn't feel like the same girl at all, yet here she was back in her old dorm room, setting out her pyjamas on her old bed. It didn't feel right for all of this to look the same. It didn't feel right to be here. It should have been a joyful moment – she was back where she was back where she belonged, in Hogwarts, her favourite place in the world. Even better, she was Head Girl now. This moment had been something her younger self had dreamed of. The prized golden badge gleamed on her robes, but she just felt tired.

Ginny lay on the bed next to Hermione's. She had refused to repeat her sixth year. She had sat and passed the exams, and was now in seventh year along with Hermione. She had said she would have happily skipped her final year and gone straight into professional Quidditch (several teams had already expressed interest) but she thought for her mother's sake, it would be best that she finished off her education first. She seemed to be in no rush to unpack. Her trunk sat, unopened, at the end of her bed and she hadn't even taken off her robes or shoes before flopping down onto the bed with a loud sigh. Hermione, however, found the tidying calmed her whirring brain. She liked things to be in order, it set her mind at ease. She arranged all her things the Muggle way, it was slower, but it was relaxing. Doing it with magic would take all the pleasure out of it. She had to keep herself busy, try to push away all the thoughts that were crowding in on her.

Coming back to Hogwarts was definitely the right choice. She had no doubt in her mind about making this decision. She hadn't wanted to leave her education unfinished, even though she knew she would easily have gotten a job. There were some perks of being one of the saviours of the wizarding world, it seemed. Still, she wanted to earn her way into her profession through her grades and her hard work. Being Muggle-born, she always felt there was still so much for her to learn about magic. Besides, she had been working towards her NEWTs for years now, and she wanted to take them. Not to sit the exams would be a failure in itself. She loved learning and knowledge, and she thought that coming back here would help her to get past the trauma of the battle and the hunt for the Horcruxes.

Hogwarts had always felt like home to her, but now it had been tainted by all that had passed. The numbers were down this year again, there was a lingering fear following Voldemort's return, and the memories of the battle still clung to the castle. Neville Longbottom was back, Hermione had been so glad to see him this morning on their return to the castle. She desperately needed some familiar faces around. Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan were back (Ernie had been made Head Boy). Parvati and Padma Patil had also returned, Parvati was in the same dorm as Ginny and Hermione. Like Neville, the Patil twins had decided they wanted to do their final year properly and achieve the best NEWTs they could. Hermione suspected they were seeking comfort here too, just as she was. They had all banded together, survivors, scarred by their experiences and trying to move on. This, more than anything that had happened today, gave Hermione some small amount of hope.

'Your speech was good, 'Mione.' Ginny's eyes were closed, and her fiery red hair fanned out around her. Her voice sounded sleepy. The usually boisterous opening feast had been a sombre and difficult affair.

'Yes' Parvati chimed in 'It was very moving. I'm proud.'

The speech had taken her a long time to write. How to put into words what they had all been through? How to express the grief, the loss, the hope that something could be rebuilt here? It had been, without a doubt, the most difficult assignment she had ever undertaken for school. Headmistress McGonagall had told her many times that the speech wasn't necessary, that if it was too difficult or too emotional she should leave it be. She appreciated that, but if there was one thing Hermione Granger refused to be, it was a quitter. She had started this speech, and she would finish it. The speech was important to her – not just as it was the duty of the Head Boy or Girl to welcome the students back, but because she had things she wanted to say about the battle. She wanted to honour those who had lost their lives. Professor McGonagall had of course been correct about how tough the speech would be to make, so she had kept it short. The kind words from her friends meant a lot.

'Thank you. It wasn't an easy thing to do.'

Ginny opened her eyes now, and turned to look at Hermione. 'It was perfect, honestly. Thank you for what you said about Fred.'

'And for your lovely words about Lavender. It was a powerful speech. You're very brave.'

 _Lavender Brown…Colin Creevy…Vincent Crabbe…Remus Lupin…Severus Snape…Fred Weasley…_

All students and teachers, all fallen in the battle. Their faces haunted her. Their names were on a loop in her head. She worried about her words. What do you say? What can you say?

Both girls were looking at her with tears in their eyes. Hermione felt anything but brave. Being back here had her deeply shaken in a way she hadn't expected. She had known giving the speech would be emotional and heart wrenching. Up on the podium her eyes had been brimming with tears, her hands had been trembling. Even now, as she arranged her things on the dresser, her hands shook and she dropped her perfume. She didn't know what she could say to them. Ginny had lost her brother, Parvati was missing her best friend. Her pain was nothing compared to theirs. Besides, she was one of the Golden Trio, she owed it to people to be strong, no matter what the cost was. She picked the perfume bottle up off the floor. She clenched it tightly, so that the pointy edges dug into her palm. The pain was grounding, helping her focus on the present, on Ginny and Parvati. They needed her now.

'Thank you. I hope I did them justice.'

Ginny came over and hugged her. 'Fred would have loved that you mentioned the Puking Pastilles and the Nosebleed Nougats.'

She hugged Ginny back, trying to put all the unspoken words into her actions. She knew Ginny had been hiding how she felt, she knew the younger girl had been trying to be strong. She wished Ginny would let her help…but at the same time she didn't know how. She didn't know what she was doing herself, and she hated this lack of control. The girls all went to bed early that night, drained from the journey and the emotion of the day.

The next morning, Hermione woke early. The room was flooded with morning light, and for a few moments it was easy to believe that everything was as it had been before, that she was back at Hogwarts and all was well. Then reality set in. She remembered everything. She turned her head and saw the scar on her arm, that constant, ugly reminder.

Ginny was rushing about the room, getting ready for an early morning Quidditch practice. She was Gryffindor Captain this year. Hermione didn't envy the team. Ginny Weasley was not to be messed with. Her determination to have the best and strongest team was Oliver Wood-like in its intensity. Hermione knew that any players who were late or slacked off could well receive one of Ginny's infamous bat bogey hexes. Ginny was a powerful witch, and hexes and curses were her speciality. She was going professional next year, and she was here as much to train as to study this year. She'd told Hermione that Quidditch was the one thing that cleared her head, that made her forget about all the awful things that had happened, and she had thrown herself into the sport with a ferocity that was formidable.

When Ginny had vacated the dorm cursing under her breath (she was not a morning person) Hermione got out of bed, and headed down to the library before class. She felt a sense of calm there. It always had been her favourite part of Hogwarts. The hush, the smell of the old books, the rustle of pages and the scratching of quills…it was her idea of perfection. She was so pleased to discover that it was still a tranquil place for her. She found her favourite desk, and sat down with an Ancient Runes book. Setting out her notebook, her quills and ink, the routine was satisfying and calming. The library was so still and quiet, the morning light clear and bright. She felt an ease she hadn't felt in months. She closed her eyes, breathing in and out slowly, feeling some of the tension inside her loosen at last. Maybe things could be okay again. She immersed herself in the translation of the runes. It was a tricky business, and required her full concentration. This must be what Quidditch was like for Ginny, this sense of absorption, of forgetting (however, briefly) that you were broken. Here she felt whole, here she felt the strength people expected of her.

Classes were good, a distraction from the loneliness and despair that set in when she wasn't busy. But still, her focus wasn't what it was before. She had to force herself to take notes, to not drift off. This wasn't the Hermione Granger she knew. Her mind wasn't fully on her work and it worried her. She hoped she was able for this year, she hoped she could get the results she knew she could achieve in her NEWTs. She had been called the brightest witch of her age, and she didn't want to fail now. She had to commit herself, she had to work hard. This lack of concentration simply wasn't good enough.

That night, back in the Common Room, she considered writing to Ron. She wanted to let him know how weird it felt to be back here. She wanted to know how he was feeling about starting Auror training. Most of all, she wanted to tell him how much she missed him. How she wanted to cuddle into him. How she would love a kiss. Even something as simple as how much she would like him sitting beside her in class, or walking with her through the grounds. She even missed doing his homework.

She took a quill and parchment from her bag. Her quill hovered above the parchment, ink dripping…but something stopped her from writing.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: The characters and world in this story belong to JK Rowling, I am merely playing with them._

 _A big thank you to everyone who has followed this story, it means a lot! Hope you enjoy the next installment._

 _Any feedback would be most welcome :)_

 **Chapter Two – George**

There was a sharp knock on the door. George sighed, rolling over on his bed. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He wanted to fall into a deep dark sleep, to just not have to think and especially, right at this moment, not to have to deal with his anxious mother. He kept his eyes shut, and held his breath hoping she would go away. She wouldn't, of course. Her vigilance was understandable but very, very wearying. It pained her to even let him spend time on his own in himself and Fred's room. If she had her way, he would be in her sight every minute of every day. Even if he could stand to continue living in the apartment on Diagon Alley himself and Fred had shared, she wouldn't allow it. His being under the same roof wasn't close enough for her. He knew that she wanted to keep him safe, but he needed some alone time right now.

Another round of knocking, louder and more urgent.

He let out a long slow breath and opened his eyes. 'Just a minute, mum.' His voice was hoarse from lack of use. When Fred had been around, he couldn't shut up. The two of them had been a constant source of noise. Now, he rarely heard his own voice. For the most part, he got by on nods and grunts. He avoided human interaction as much as he possibly could. He just couldn't stand it.

He wished he could take a sleeping potion, roll over, close his eyes and forget. But he knew it wasn't an option. His mum had been vigilantly checking his room. While the healers had allowed sleeping potions at first, they were banned now, lest he became reliant on them. Now, he barely slept. Sleep meant dreams, and dreams meant going back there. He didn't want to get up or get dressed or face the day. Everything felt heavy, his grief was tangible, pressing him down into the mattress. His stomach was knotted with anxiety, and his limbs, once strong, felt wooly and useless. Yet he knew his mum would stand outside that door until he got up. He could just imagine her now, hands clenched together, holding her breath to try and listen for a sign, any sign that her son was in that room and still breathing. It broke his heart to see her like this, almost as much as it had broken his heart to lose Fred in the first place. He stared up at the ceiling, which had blotchy damp patches that he had never noticed before he had cause to spend hours staring up at the roof instead of looking over to the right and seeing Fred's empty bed, Fred's mess, everything but Fred himself. The room was left exactly as it had been the last time they were here. Even Fred's dirty socks hadn't been moved. One morning his mum had crept in silently, trying to tidy up some of the mess. George had screamed at her and, to his shame, he had even pulled his wand on her, on his own mother. But the place had to stay this way, Fred's way. Both his parents had tried to talk to them about this. They said it wasn't healthy, it wasn't normal, that he had to move on. But this room wasn't just his. It had always been his and Fred's and that wasn't going to change now just because….just because…

They'd even had a St Mungo's healer come out to the house to talk to him. She was young and pretty, if Fred had been there he definitely would have flirted with her. George stared at her coldly as she spoke about the importance of moving on and changing.

'Living a good life is a far better tribute to your twin than keeping his mess, don't you agree?'

'Fred. That's his name.'

'Fred wouldn't want this for you, George.'

Bullshit. She didn't know Fred. She didn't know what Fred would want. What did she know, sitting here in her pastel cardigans, with her big eyes and her stupid clichés? And what did she know of grief? Did she think that she could smile it away?

'You don't fucking know that. Just leave me alone.'

More knocking, this time with a panicked note to it. For fuck's sake. 'Coming, mum.' His voice was tight with tension, but he was trying to keep himself in check. He knew how hard this had been on her, he didn't want to make it worse. Grief and worry had aged her, she seemed frail to him now. The extra wrinkles, the anxious expression, the greying hair…he noticed every change, and it hurt. He hated to know he was causing her pain, but he couldn't change.

He dragged himself up and out of bed, hefted each step to the door. Eight steps. Then stop. Then press forehead against the door. Close eyes. Try to look okay. Try to keep it together. Stand straight. Shoulders back. Hand on doorknob. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Turn.

'Good morning, George.'

She looked so damn hopeful, he could see in her bright eyes a wish that he would come back to her. George bit on his lip, holding back the impulse to say that there was nothing, nothing about this morning that could possibly be good. Didn't she know what day it was? September 2nd. Four months. Four months and still this pain. It hadn't dulled. It had burrowed deeper and deeper, seeping into every part of him, into every little thing he did. It hadn't gotten any better. It wouldn't get any better. And he didn't want it to, because that still wouldn't bring back Fred. To feel any other way would be a betrayal. He would always be broken, always be half, always be the one left behind.

'Morning.' He barely recognised this gruff monotone, but it sounded the way he felt inside. It was his voice now. Of course it would change. Everything was different without Fred.

He hovered just inside the door, and she hovered just inside that. He knew she wanted to hug him. She knew he didn't want that. She seemed to wilt a little bit. He saw this, every day, how the grief pressed down on her more with each passing hour. She would start the day with some light in her, then be dragged back down into the darkness. A constant cycle of grief.

'Angelina's here. She's in the kitchen. It would be lovely if you could speak to her, pet.'

Angelina. Even in front of his mother, he sagged against the doorframe. Of course. She always came on the anniversaries. He knew that for Angelina and his mother, it was a comfort to have each other, to talk. But when it came to him and Angelina…it was horrendous. He hated it so much. His own grief weighed him down so much, and the pressure of the grief of his family around him too. Having to confront Angelina's pain as well was just too much. He simply didn't have it in him to comfort her. Maybe his heart wasn't as big as his mother's, but he couldn't put aside his own sorrow and hold someone else's. There simply wasn't room for more suffering in him. But he had to do this. This was one thing he knew Fred would have wanted him to do. Fred never let on how much he liked Angelina, but he didn't have to for George to know. George nodded curtly, and his mum embraced him suddenly. The wave of sorrow that hit him was physical, a surge up that nearly had him bursting into tears, then a drop back into the dread and heaviness that was his life now.

'Be downstairs in five minutes. I'll have tea ready.'

There was a glimpse of her old stern self, the Molly you wouldn't mess with. George nodded again, showered quickly and changed. Angelina was a guest, she had mattered to Fred. He would make the effort. Angelina always tried to convince him to meet up with her more often, to do things together with their old friends. He always refused. He didn't have it in him to be George without Fred, and that's what he would be in those situations. He couldn't do it. But when she was here, he would do his best. He reckoned he knew that was all he had to offer, and she would accept it. Feeling guilty, he glanced around the room. There was a hat of Fred's, the one he'd always worn in Hogwarts when it snowed. For all his desire to hold onto the room, hold onto the way things were, he realised Angelina probably had little of Fred for herself. He snatched the hat (knitted in the Gryffindor colours) before he had time to change his mind. Before the grief pushed out this good impulse.

Down in the kitchen, Angelina sat in her usual seat, drinking from her usual mug. Visitors were always served copious amounts of tea in the Weasley household. Her head was bent, and her braids shielded her face from view. George really hoped she wasn't crying.

'George!'

Molly's voice was too loud, too cheery. She rushed over with a cup, pouring some tea. With a swish and a flick of her wand a heaped plate of scones landed on the table, quickly followed by butter and jam. She was awfully worried about how little George had been eating, and pressed food upon him at every moment.

'Now dears, I'll leave you to talk, okay?' She squeezed George's shoulder so hard it hurt, and looked at him with pleading eyes. He tried to smile to show he would be nice to Angelina, that he wasn't about to explode. He could see her wondering if she should stay.

'Thanks, mum.'

Angelina looked up 'We'll be fine, Molly. Thank you for taking such good care of me.'

Molly backed out of the room, slowly, cautiously. George reckoned she would have no quibbles with Extendable Ears now.

'Hi Angelina.'

Angelina gave a wobbly smile. 'Hi George.' _Please don't cry, please don't cry, please don't cry._

'Um, this was Fred's. I thought you might like it. You don't have many of his things.' George looked at the table. He didn't want to see her reaction.

Angelina reached across the table, not for the hat, but for his hand. 'Thank you. That's so kind of you.'

He forced himself to look up at her. He could see it all in her eyes. She really had loved Fred. She still did. And all he had to offer her was an old hat. It seemed so pathetic, so useless. He hated that these stupid objects were all they had left of Fred. Fred had been so full of energy and action and life…he couldn't just be gone like this, it wasn't possible.

'You should come meet up with the rest of the gang, George. Lee really misses you. I do too. I think it would be good for us all, you know?'

She had taken the hat, and turned it about in her hands as she spoke. George nodded stiffly. She always made a suggestion like this. He always pretended that he was going to consider it. Angelina tried to make small talk. Given George's minimal answers, this mostly consisted of her filling him in on news about people they knew from Hogwarts. It was so bloody unfair that these people all got to go on with their lives while Fred, Fred who was better than any of them, was gone. Fred hovered unspoken between them. Angelina didn't dare mention him, George imagined she was scared of how he would react. Eventually the conversation petered out, it always did. Angelina hugged him and kissed his cheek. This time, she left clutching the hat to her chest. The sight filled George with despair.

Fred was gone, all Angelina had left of him was a fucking hat.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Characters and world are JK Rowling's, of course._

 _Thanks to everyone who had read and followed, hope this chapter is to your liking!_

 **Chapter Three – Hermione**

Ginny was bolting down food at a rate that would have impressed even Ron. Every morning she went for a run, and then had Quidditch practice. By the time she got to the breakfast table, she was ravenous. Between mouthfuls she filled Hermione in on the Quidditch trials.

'And then he took a Bludger to the nose.'

Hermione gasped, but Ginny just shrugged. 'All part of the game, nothing Madame Pomfrey couldn't fix. Besides, wouldn't have happened if he was a half decent Chaser.'

Ginny was always particularly harsh on the Chasers, being so incredibly talented herself. From what Hermione could gather, she was happy enough with the team she had now. When Ginny was done with them they would be unstoppable. At the sound of hooting and flapping wings everyone looked up. The first years still got excited at this morning post ritual. It gave Hermione hope that joy could still be found in little things. She remembered being terrified of the owls at first herself, thinking that something had gone horribly wrong when they had descended on the Dining Hall in such large numbers. Now, Ginny was smiling, anticipating a message from Harry.

Hermione received her newspapers, nothing else. She wasn't even surprised at this point. She had written to Ron at the end of her first week at Hogwarts. Now, nearing the end of their second week, she still hadn't received so much as a word from him. Ginny's newspapers had arrived too (she would study the Quidditch sections far more deeply than she studied anything for school) and she had a couple of letters. Hermione tried not to feel jealous as Ginny ran her thumb over Harry's handwriting, before slipping his letter in her satchel, to be read later. Her brow creased as she recognised the writing on the other letter. She broke the seal and almost tore the letter in her haste to read it. She chewed on her lip as she read, and turned to Hermione with worried eyes.

'George is coming to Hogsmeade this weekend. He told mum he just had to get out of the house or he'd go completely mad.'

'He's still doing about the same?'

'Maybe a bit worse. It was four months last week…I can't believe it.'

Hermione hugged her friend. Words simply couldn't cover this. Ginny took a few steadying breaths. She allowed herself sink into the hug for a few moments, then was back in control.

'Okay, I'll see if I can get permission to go down to Hogsmeade on Saturday to see him.'

'Do you want me to come too? I know it may be better to meet up just the two of you, but if some company would help I'm happy to join you.'

'That would be great Hermione. He won't hang up with his friends. He only sees us, and Angelina when she visits. I think some new company might help.'

Of course McGonagall granted them permission to head down to the village. On Saturday morning, they walked down, breathing in the crisp, cool autumny air. They wore their Gryffindor scarves, and the chilly air made their cheeks pink. Hermione hadn't seen George much over the summer. Even at The Burrow, he had been holed up in his room. She was a bit scared. She was worried she would do or say the wrong thing. She didn't know how she should act, and she didn't really want to see how losing Fred had torn him apart. But she did want to help George, and Ginny too, and really this wasn't about her. Her discomfort was nothing in this situation.

George was waiting for them in the centre of Hogsmeade. His hands were in his coat pockets, and he wore a hat which concealed the fact that he had lost his left ear. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and he looked desperately sad. He looked more worn down than he had over the summer. He looked at them as they approached. He didn't smile. Hermione didn't try to, there was no point in pretending things were okay.

'Hey.'

Ginny hugged him tightly. There was a certain fierceness in everything she did, and she certainly loved fiercely and loyally. George's expression did soften slightly as he hugged her back. Hermione gave him an awkward wave, and he kind of patted her arm.

'Good to see you, Hermione.' She doubted that he actually thought that, but the change of scenery must be a relief. She could imagine how restrictive he was finding The Burrow at the moment.

Ginny led the way to The Three Broomsticks, favourite haunt of Hogwarts students. Inside it was toasty, and smelled pleasantly of Butterbeer. The pub was quieter than usual. Hogsmeade had been marked by the events of the past year too, but also the fact it wasn't a Hogsmeade weekend meant there wasn't the influx of students they were all used to. Still, Madame Rosmerta had her regulars sitting up at the bar. When she saw George, her face creased and she bustled over to them, surprisingly quick in her glittery high heels. Her eyes were full of tears.

'Oh my dear!' She pulled George into a tight embrace. Though his face was partly obscured by Rosmerta's towering blonde curls, Hermione could see his face. His expression was a gut wrenching mix of pain and anger. They needed to get out of there. As soon as George was free, Hermione grabbed his arm.

'Sorry Madame Rosmerta, we have to go.' Before Rosmerta could reply, Hermione had tugged George out of the pub. Outside, he let out a long heavy sigh.

'Thanks. I can't stand all the sympathy. It's just…'

He shook his head. His face looked drawn and pale. He clearly hadn't been sleeping much. He had lost weight too, and it was jarring to see him without a cheeky grin on his face. He was so different to the George she was used to, like a whole other person.

Hermione gave his arm a slight squeeze, then let go lest he thought she expected them to walk around Hogsmeade arm in arm. Ginny emerged from the pub, grumbling under her breath. She had probably given Rosmerta a piece of her mind. Hermione figured it was best to move on, not to dwell on what had just happened. She wished she could help George, could comfort him, but that probably wasn't what he needed or wanted right now. She took charge, setting a brisk pace through the village. The Weasleys fell in behind her. She tried to think of somewhere that wasn't too saturated with memories of Fred. It was hard, Hogsmeade wasn't a big village, and they had taken every opportunity to explore it.

She stopped outside Madame Puddifoots. The pastel pink coffee shop was absolutely horrendous, with its sugary sweet hostess and gross heart-shaped confetti, but she was certain that Fred hadn't been a regular. Ginny smirked. Even George's mouth turned up a bit.

'No bloody way' he paused 'Fred would definitely come back and haunt us all if we went there.'

There was a nervous silence, as his unexpected joke hung in the air, then Ginny laughed. Hermione joined in, surprised by George's words. George looked surprised himself.

'Right so no Rosmerta, no pink hell hole…' Ginny remembered a new café she had heard about. Hermione wasn't sure if starting somewhere new, somewhere Fred hadn't been, was really any better. It simply wasn't possible to live this way, avoiding places he'd been. They couldn't pretend his death hadn't happened, but it seemed that was what they were going to do. The conversation was awkward and stilted as they avoided what they were really thinking. Ginny filled George in on the Quidditch tryouts, on plays she wanted to drill, on her thoughts about the various teams she might apply to. She went into far more detail than she would with Hermione, who didn't know a Wronski Feint from a Sloth Grip Roll and frankly, she didn't care. Ron and Harry would never let her live down her Wonky Faint remark. Ginny tried to get George's opinion, to bring out his love of the sport, but his answers were short and flat. Hermione didn't care that she couldn't contribute to the conversation, the tirade of Quidditch lingo was preferable to the stiff silence that descended when Ginny stopped speaking.

Hermione wanted to ask George how he was doing, to have a real and genuine talk with him. However, while he was there with them, his mind wasn't. Hermione could see he was lost in thought, see the way his eyes darted about as though he was looking for an escape. Now wasn't the time or place for a deep conversation. But to not talk about how he was doing…it seemed ridiculous. Ginny had asked, and he'd brushed her off with 'the same.' When pressed, he'd given some cursory news from home. Percy had a new job, Charlie would be home for a weekend next month. It must be difficult living back in The Burrow, it must be hard to deal with his family, he must be confused about what to do now. She wanted to help, she wanted to be there. She recognised that she was being a hypocrite though, she didn't talk about anything real herself. The most honest thing she said was that she was worried about her NEWTs. She didn't tell them about her mixed feelings about being back at Hogwarts, or her worries about Ron…

Ginny had a few things to pick up in the village. Hermione asked George if he wanted to walk back up towards the castle, to spare him the experience of encountering various shopkeepers who would want to talk about Fred. She still questioned the wisdom of avoiding these encounters, but for now, it seemed like the kindest thing she could do for him. He gratefully accepted. They walked back up to the castle, each caught up in their own mind. It was a companionable silence, more comfortable than the café, where conversation seemed necessary and the whole thing felt staged. Hermione realised she had spent little, if any, time just with George before.

'Why don't you head back up to the castle, I'll wait to say goodbye to Gin. I know you probably have work you're itching to get back to.' George's voice was so quiet that she had to lean in to hear him.

She could see how today had been draining for him, she felt tired herself.

'Yeah, so many books, so little time' she gave a little laugh, which she instantly regretted. It was a ridiculous thing. 'It was good to see you George. Take care, okay?'

'You too, Hermione.'

Outside the castle gates, they said their goodbyes. Hermione surprised them both by hugging George. He held on to her tightly, and she felt more solid than she had in the past year. She hoped he felt the same way, that she could give him some strength or some hope or…just something.

That night as she sat in the Common Room, Hermione thought about George. She thought about how unwell he looked, how much pain he was keeping inside. Then she did something uncharacteristically impulsive, much like the hug. She took out a fresh sheet of parchment, before she could talk herself out of it, she began writing. She had always been better at expressing herself on the page than in person.

 _Dear George,_

 _It was good to see you today. I just wanted to let you know that I'm here if you need anything._

 _If it would help, you could write to me, I know how hard it is to keep everything bottled up inside, to not have anyone to talk to. Sometimes it's easier to write things down than it is to say them. Please think about it, and do take care of yourself._

 _Best wishes,_

 _Hermione_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: World and characters are JK Rowling's. I am not JK Rowling._

 _This is shorter than the previous chapters. Writing did not come easy today, but I pushed on as best I could. Keeping NaNoWriMo-ing on. Didn't hit my target for today, but as the last few chapters were longer I'm still on track. Hopefully tomorrow will go better!_

 **Chapter Four – George**

Another morning, another knock at the door. George had been awake for hours anyway. He only slept in short bursts now, jerking awake from bad dreams, soaked in sweat. He spent hours were spent tossing and turning, no matter how tired he was. His mind just wouldn't stop. He hadn't slept through the night since he'd been taken off the sleeping draughts. He feared sleep. It wasn't the safe dark cocoon it had once been, closing his eyes meant being assaulted by memories of the bloody battle at Hogwarts. He relived Fred's last moments nearly every night and every day, he just felt more tired.

He showered and dressed, taking his time, putting off facing his family. He knew he should make an effort to be brighter, to ease their worries, but he just couldn't shift the heavy gloom that pressed down on his chest. It never lifted, it just kept pushing him down and down, deeper and deeper. Even breathing felt like such an effort, like such a waste. This wasn't living.

The tension was palpable as he entered the kitchen. It still smelled like home – like food and happiness – but the ease of it was gone. They didn't sit and laugh here like they once had. It was much stiller in The Burrow now, sorrow had hushed them all. They were all quieter, all paler, all lower-key versions of their former selves, like the volume of their lives had been turned down. Molly was at the stove. Arthur was at work already, Percy was sitting at the table drinking coffee. He had never looked comfortable here, but now he was back and trying to make amends, he was more awkward than ever. He seemed to be constantly apologetic, and he radiated guilt and remorse. George knew Percy was trying. The betrayal had been forgiven, after all family was family, and that meant even more to them now. Still…he couldn't connect with him. He found Percy's need for reassurance draining. He was being kind though, not teasing him as he once had…but that could just be because he didn't have Fred by his side, egging him on.

Molly's nervousness practically fizzed about her as George came into the room. She examined his face closely, as though trying to read his mood. She had been extra vigilant since his trip to Hogsmeade. He had told her it had been fine, that he'd met the girls and had coffee with them. He knew Ginny would have been told to send a detailed written report too. He wasn't sure if his mother was hoping the outing would have some miraculous cheering effect on him, or whether she was worried his outburst about needing to leave the house meant things were getting worse. He wordlessly endured her scrutiny, biting back harsh words. She wanted the best for him, he knew that. He walked over and kissed her cheek. She was startled. He hadn't initiated physical contact in a long time. He endured it, but avoided it if he could. He had been hugged and cried upon too much in the last few months.

'Morning mum.'

'Morning George.' She smiled at him, but her eyebrows were still pulled together with worry. 'Tea?'

He sat down to have his breakfast, nodding hello to Percy. As he buttered toast he had no appetite for, Molly placed a letter down beside his plate. 'Post for you, dear. It arrived early this morning.'

She hovered, watching him. At least the letter wasn't addressed to Fred & George Weasley, those were the worst. This was just probably something to do with business. He hadn't done anything to get Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes going again. Without Fred, what was the point? He didn't have the energy or enthusiasm for it. He just didn't care anymore.

The letter was addressed in a neat hand that seemed familiar, but he couldn't place it. It wasn't Ginny's writing, hers was bigger and spikier. It wasn't Angelina's either, hers was slanting and loopy. His mum was still waiting, still watching. He resisted the urge to ask smartly if she'd like him to read it aloud, instead pocketing it to read upstairs later. He ate his breakfast, and she drifted back to her cleaning. Percy tried to break the silence by telling them about his research job, but both Molly and George were too distracted.

Back up in their room, George sat on his bed, and turned the letter over in his hands. Who would be writing to him? They were thankfully past the awful stage of sympathy cards and letters. The messages had poured in – trite cards full of clichés, awful tearful letters about Fred – and they all had to be read and replied to. It had seemed never-ending, damn Fred for being so popular and beloved. Responding to them all had been draining, George just felt utterly emptied out, with nothing to give. He had stopped responding to letters from friends who wanted to see him. He spent as much time as possible hiding away up here, it was just easier. Even being with his family was so difficult.

He opened the seal on the letter, unfolding it to see a short letter in the same small, neat hand. He saw the name at the end first, Hermione. She had never written to him before, he had no idea why she would now. His brow furrowed as he read.

 _I'm here if you need anything…_

 _you could write to me…_

He crumpled up the letter in frustration, tossing it across the room. She was just like the rest of them, thinking she knew how to make things better when she didn't have a fucking clue. She thought it was sad? Well, try living like this. Try feeling this having half of your life torn away from you. She didn't know what pain really was, how could she possibly understand? Did she think she could send him some peppy little response, and then suddenly he'd be back to his old self? He could never be that self again. Fred was gone, and that made all the difference.

Try not to think about it, people would say. How could he not, when his very face was a reminder of what he was missing? His reflection mocked him, like a ghostly Fred looking back at him. Bar the ear (or lack thereof), they were identical. His missing ear seemed prophetic or symbolic now –a piece of him missing, his loss made visible.

Live your life.

Get a hobby.

Write a letter.

Piss off, as if any of that would actually help. Every part of his life had been lived with Fred by his side, there was no escaping his memory, no escaping his absence. He didn't want to forget, it would be a betrayal. Why couldn't anyone understand that?


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the world and characters, oh how I wish I did!_

 _This has been the hardest chapter to write yet. It was a slog but I hit my NaNoWriMo target for the day. I hope you like it._

 _Thanks to everyone who has supported Write to Me so far :)_

* * *

 **Chapter 5 – Hermione**

Hermione struggled to her library desk with her teetering stack of books.

'It would be easier to use Wingardium Leviosa, Miss Granger.' Madame Pince looked at her with concern. 'I do stop the younger students using spells here, they only wind up enchanting books to hit one another, but I trust you are more mature than that.'

Hermione was frazzled with all the work she had to do, she wasn't thinking straight. She let the pile of books land on the table. They gave a thump that had Madame Pince glaring at her. Hermione quailed and sat down quietly. The pile of books towered over her. There was so much work to be done, too much work. She was back and she had to prove herself. She had to show that she hadn't lost her touch, that she was still the brightest witch of her age. Leaving school to fight Voldemort with Harry and Ron had undoubtedly been the right thing to do. Thinking back on what happened, she tended to focus on the impact the Battle of Hogwarts had had on her, and the loss of so many friends that day. But in truth, the whole year had been a struggle and she knew it had damaged her. She felt very proud of what they had achieved, and her friendship with Harry and Ron was deeper now than she had ever thought possible. But their journey had been a difficult one. The uncertainty, the constant sense of danger and being hunted, the moving and the planning. Every moment had been fraught with anxiety, and they had all endured so much – physically, mentally and emotionally. It had almost broken her, in more ways than one. She wasn't the girl she had been before, she hardly remembered what she had been like without these battle scars. There had been so many desperate moments in that tent, when they all felt weighed down by despair, by the enormity of what they were facing. The dread of it stayed with her, even now. The worst times were wearing that locket, having it awake every doubt and negative voice in her head, having it bring every hidden bad part of her rising to the surface. Sometimes, she worried that wearing the Horcrux had left some evil, some darkness burrowed down in the very heart of her. She worried that her every bad thought, her every flash of anger, was a sign that this part of her was growing, that eventually it would take over her whole soul. She imagined her heart shrivelling and blackening. She would grow breathless thinking about it, worrying that she would be the next force of evil unleashed on their world. It was irrational, she knew, but she couldn't escape the thoughts.

She was struggling, she was damaged. Part of her thought that maybe she shouldn't be back at school, maybe she wasn't ready for this challenge. However, she was determined to see this through. She wouldn't let the scars – mental or physical – affect her performance at school. She had to show that she was still an academic, and that she could still achieve impressive results in her NEWTs. Not just impressive, she had to do her very best. That Exceeds Expectations she had received in her OWLs still bothered her. It simply wasn't good enough. She had to be more prepared this time. She had to be perfect.

She had a lot to prove – the scar on her arm from being tortured at Malfoy Manor was a daily reminder of that. Mudblood. That disgusting slur had been etched into her skin now, like a brand. Whatever spell Bellatrix Lestrange had used had made the mark permanent. Bellatrix had carved the word in spiky uneven capital letters, writ large on her forearm. MUDBLOOD. The wound had healed, but the evidence was there in raised, angry scars. If you ran your fingers over her arm, they would read that word, her difference marked not just in her blood but in her flesh too. It sickened her. Hermione had worn cardigans throughout the hot summer, hiding the mark from view. She had many scars from the war, but this one was by far the worst. She was so ashamed of it. Even Ron hadn't seen it since that awful night in Malfoy Manor, and she didn't change in front of the girls in the dormitory. It was such an ugly, awful word and seeing it every day just brought her right back to the terror and pain of that brutal night. It haunted her dreams – the hot pain of the knife digging into her, Bellatrix's vice-like grip, her breath on Hermione's face, her maniacal laugh. She would never forget it, every letter sliced in metal and hatred.

She was proud of her parents and her background, but even still, so much prejudice lingered in the magical world. She felt she had to rise to the top to prove herself. She had to be better than everyone else, to earn her magic and prove she deserved it. She wanted to show everyone that a muggleborn witch or wizard could be as talented as a pureblood, more talented even. She wasn't just doing this for herself, but for other muggle-born students who, like her, were coming into this new world with confusion and were treated with such suspicion.

With Professor McGonagall's permission, she had started mentoring first year students who, like herself, did not have magical heritage. It was tough work, some of her students were really struggling, but it was good to see she was making a different to their school experience. It was rewarding, helping them made her feel she was doing something worthwhile here. Her studies…they just didn't seem to be engaging her the way they once had. It felt like much more effort than it once had. She had to focus. There was far too much work to be done to slack off like this. She opened a book and began to read, taking notes as fast as she could. However, she wasn't able to work like she used to. She felt slow and sluggish now, and her stomach was constantly in knots when she thought of all the work there was to do, and how she was failing at it. Failure. Thinking about it made her feel physically ill, and it seemed like a real possibility now. She was behind on her plans, and she still was unsure about what she would do next year. This lack of certainty scared her. She was used to having a set path to follow, having goals to aim for. Hours were spent pondering and worrying instead of pushing ahead. She felt adrift, it was like her fiery ambition had been quenched. She was a shadow of Hermione Granger. She couldn't do this. The guilt was horrendous. She'd been given this second chance, this opportunity to complete her education, and she was botching it. She had survived the battle, a battle in which so many good people had lost their lives, and she was squandering that gift. She was stuck in the past, in the bad memories and not living now. The toughest thing was, she didn't know how to talk to anyone about all of this.

She was feeling very distant from Ron. She had sent him letters, hoping he would respond, hoping she could open up to him. She had thought they would support each other through their new challenges, but instead he was leaving her on her own. She longed for comforting news, or for stories from his new life. But her weekly letters seemed to be flying off into a void. Maybe she should stop sending them, but she didn't want to stop believing in him, in them. She had received one letter in response, really more of a note, saying Auror training was tough work but he liked it, and that he hoped her study was going well. It completely lacked any affection or concern. It was hard to believe this was the same boy who had kissed her with such passion in the Chamber of Secrets, who she had held so tenderly as he cried after his brother's death. On the night before Hermione and Ginny left for Hogwarts, Molly had made a huge meal which they ate out in the garden. After dinner, Hermione had sat beneath a tree with Ron, cuddled into him. His arm had been warm around her shoulders; his lips were in her hair as he whispered to her about how much he would miss her. He felt so far away now. Hell, she'd had more contact from Harry. All her news about how Ron was doing came from him, or from Ginny. Ron's lack of interest or concern was evident, and it hurt. She wished she didn't care as much as she did, but it couldn't be helped. He had her heart, or what was left of it, anyway.

She missed Harry and Ron, the banter the three of them had had in the Common Room, the teasing and laughter. They'd helped her lighten up a bit. Without them, she had nothing to keep her from going overboard with the study. Ginny was so intense about Quidditch, the two of them were running from their pasts in a similar way really. Hermione knew she was stretching herself thin, but this was her last year, her last chance, and she had to make it count. She didn't want to look back and have regrets. It was only October and the strain was already evident in the dark circles under her eyes, her bitten nails and her edginess. Still, it was much better to be too busy. Pushing herself to the limits seemed to be the only way to keep the despair and anxiety from drowning her. When she slowed down her thoughts crowded in on her and it was all too much. She needed some help, she knew that, but she had no idea who she could turn to.

* * *

 _AN: I am aware the Mudblood scar is movie only. Normally I'm a by-the-book kind of girl, but it fit well here and gave me good scope to explore Hermione's trauma._


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: Characters and world are JK Rowling's, queen of magic._

 _This chapter is dedicated to cares 1970, who left a lovely review on the last chapter that made my day. Thank you!_

 _Also, with this chapter, I passed 10,000 words on this NaNoWriMo project. Hurrah!_

 **Chapter 6 – George**

The Weasleys had been tip-toeing around George for the past week. His silence had been transformed into anger as was attested to by his bruised knuckles and the way a room would be vacated as soon as he entered it. He'd shouted at Molly to give him a moment's peace, snapped at Arthur for making too much noise when tinkering with some muggle machine, told Percy to shut up when he had been droning on about the rare magic books he was researching, and called Ron names that normally would have earned him a smack with Molly's wooden spoon. He stomped around the house, he'd punched his bedroom wall, and his anger was like a dark cloud around him. He was becoming impossible to live with.

They assumed it was the lingering impact of hitting that four month mark. Molly worried that going to Hogsmeade had been a step too far. Arthur thought that the poor lad probably felt stifled by Molly's well-intentioned fussing. It was these things, but it was more too. He was seeing how everyone around him was moving on and how they seemed to expect him to follow. Seeing Ginny captaining the Gryffindor team and moving towards taking professional Quidditch by storm had shaken him up. Percy and Ron had their new jobs, and even Arthur and Molly were getting out more and starting to live again. George felt betrayed – how could they act as though things were normal? Things couldn't be normal again, this, this horrible reality couldn't be normal. He realised that as everyone else was rebuilding their lives – even Angelina seemed to be doing better – he was completely stuck here. There was nowhere for him to go. The thought of being stuck here, of being left behind, alone and bitter, was utterly terrifying. He felt to change things would be to betray Fred, but the thought of staying in this deep dark mind-set forever (however long forever may be) was paralysing.

Up in their room George started to clear some of his clutter, as usual leaving Fred's things untouched. He came across a crumpled up piece of parchment. He stilled, sitting down on the floor. There was a possibility that it was something of Fred's. If it was, it was probably just some rejected idea for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes or something similarly useless, but it would still be another piece of Fred, another link to him. He just sat there for a few moments, lost in thought. When he opened out the sheet of parchment, smoothing out the creases, he felt a sharp pang of disappointment at the sight of writing that was not Fred's. He knew Fred's writing as well as his own, the two were rarely apart. They wrote notes to each other in class, the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes plans were formulated by snatching the parchment from one another to jot things down, and it was hard to tell which text book belonged to which twin given the mixture of notes in the margins.

He recognised Hermione's letter, he had forgotten it in the haze of anger and confusion that had descended upon him. Now he remembered his anger reading it, how he'd flung it away. After his frustration seeing Hermione and Ginny back at school, back on track, this had been the last straw. He was surprised he hadn't thrown the bloody thing away, or set it on fire or something. Given the mood he had been in lately, it wouldn't have been a surprising reaction. He flexed his right hand, which still ached from punching his bedroom wall again and again, until Percy (of all people) had restrained him. He was just in so much pain, and it wouldn't stop. Percy's show of empathy had been surprising, given that he was usually so socially inept. He had really been making an effort recently though. Hefting a huge sigh, George realised that he probably owed his brother an apology. Hell, he owed his family an apology. He had been a total nightmare, so steeped in his own pain that he hadn't had any consideration for their sorrow. They had all lost a great man, they were all coping as best they could. Getting a new job was undoubtedly healthier than punching the shit out of a wall.

He looked down at the letter in his hands again. Re-reading her words in this new state this state of…revelation or something, he thought of it differently. It had been kind of her to write and to be concerned. The way she had offered to walk back up with him to the castle so he could avoid traipsing around the shops of Hogsmeade after what had already been a draining day, it had been very considerate and had been done so subtly too. Her offer was unexpected, but then, they did get on well. At first she hadn't been able to stand the pranks himself and Fred had pulled, and they had thought of her as an insufferable goody-two-shoes. However, they had come to know each other better, to respect each other. While she could never be comfortable with their blatant disregard for school rules, Hermione had praised their spells and products, and they had huge admiration for her command of magic. They'd had a laugh with her, and she was caring. She had a good heart. George knew he should thank her, she meant well.

He left the room, he needed a walk to clear his head and mull over these new thoughts. Percy was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book. He looked up, startled, when George entered the room. His research job was part-time, but as usual, he was totally absorbed in his work. Still, rare magical texts were more interesting than the thickness of cauldron bottoms. Anything was more interesting than that.

'Hey Perce, I'm sorry for yelling at you.' He pressed his hands down on the rough wood of the table, grounding himself. He had to do this right. He had to try. 'I'm glad you are enjoying your new job, and that you're back. Myself and Fred were arses to you before I know. And' he waved his battered hand in the air 'thanks for stopping me too.'

Percy's mouth hung open a bit. George realised that this was probably the nicest thing he'd ever said to his brother. He really had been a pain. Percy blinked, and readjusted his horn-rimmed glasses. His nervousness about being back home and trying to make amends had made him even more awkward than before, something George hadn't thought possible.

'Thanks George, that means a lot. And I hope you find something too, something that helps.'

George gritted his teeth. Percy was being earnest. He gave a stiff nod and headed out the back door before he said anything he would regret. He didn't need to add to the list of sorrys he had to say. The air outside was cool and refreshing, and walking felt purposeful. He strode out, propelling himself away from the house, away from that room. He had been spending far too much time cooped up in there, living with a ghost and with his own broken mind. As he walked through Ottery-St-Catchpole, he felt the pressure on his chest ease a bit. He gulped in fresh air, and felt his mind clear a little. Apologising to Percy had been good, he felt a bit better for it.

He wasn't ready to leave The Burrow yet. He wasn't ready to make a new start, and he still didn't really want to. He didn't know how to be George without Fred, he'd never had cause to. He worked as part of a double act, he had no desires to fly solo. Still, something had to change, if not for himself, then for his family. This wasn't fair on them. They were in enough pain without bearing the brunt of his sorrow and anger. He considered Hermione's words again.

 _If it would help, you could write to me…_

Writing a letter seemed odd. He'd never been one for writing really, bar the odd letter home to Ginny when she'd been too young to come to Hogwarts. She had always been a wilful thing, and she had been so eager to have her own adventures and be at school with her brothers. This would be an entirely different kind of letter, a more personal one for sure, more serious too. But at the same time, writing a letter seemed a manageable step. Finding a new job, or moving, or even meeting his friends…these things all seemed too much but this, this he could do. And maybe it would help. He knew Hermione was kind and caring, he knew she would be discrete and that he could trust her. Even though she was dating Ron, he knew the information would stay with her. For a moment he wondered about that – he would be writing to his brother's girlfriend – but he saw her first and foremost as a friend.

He asked Percy if he could borrow a quill and some ink, and he found a sheet of parchment. He cleared off the desk in their room. It hadn't been used in some time. He sat there looking at the blank page. He felt oddly like he was doing an exam. This was frightening. If he was to tell Hermione how he was feeling…how could he put the sadness, the anger, the fear, all these big emotions, into words? How much should he say, how much could he say? It was a vulnerable thing, it was daunting. He had never been comfortable with sharing his feelings. He hadn't really needed to. Fred knew him so well that words usually weren't necessary at all. Besides, the two of them had always operated in jokes – opening up honestly like this was new and scary.

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _Thank you for your letter, it was kind of you to write. I am sorry I didn't write back sooner, it has been a difficult week._

He steeled himself. He had to keep going before he lost his nerve. He knew this letter wouldn't get written otherwise.

 _Since the Hogsmeade trip, I have realised that everyone else is starting to rebuild their lives, but mine is still shattered. I don't know how to live without Fred. It feels so wrong._

He didn't want to pour everything out in one letter, he didn't want to burden her with it all. He tried to give an overall idea of where he was at. It was easier to explain it this way, on the page, than it was to say these things out loud. He was surprised at how cathartic the experience was. He felt the knot in his stomach loosen a bit, rather than tighten as it had speaking to the Healer from St Mungo's, or even when someone from his family tried to have a heart to heart. The words spilled across the parchment.

 _Thank you for letting me get this out, it means a lot. How is Hogwarts? Is it strange to be back? I hope you aren't pushing yourself too much, I know how important your schoolwork is to you._

 _Best,_

 _George_

He was surprised to have filled the whole sheet. He thought about cutting some of it out, but decided that it was too risky. As it was he felt vulnerable and shaky with his innermost thoughts and fears written out before him. He sealed the letter, wrote her name and address, and sent it off before he could stop himself. His mum came into the kitchen as he was sending Hermes off with his letter. The look of surprise on her face, and then the smile, quelled some of his worries about Hermione's reaction to his words. He was trying. At long last, he was trying.


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: Characters and world are JK Rowling's, not mine!_

 _Today was a tough one. Thanks to everyone who has read so far, and especially to the people who left reviews._

 _UPDATED - extra scene added at the end :)_

 **Chapter 7 – Hermione**

It was time for Gryffindor's first Quidditch match of the year. With a grim resolve, Hermione wrapped her red-and-gold striped scarf around her neck. Missing Quidditch matches simply wasn't something students did, and as Head Girl she would probably even be expected to be enthusiastic. Of course she wanted Gryffindor to win, and she was proud of all Ginny's hard work…but she would much rather be in the library. Or just inside would do. It was freezing out there, even for October. Why were Quidditch matches never on warm days? It was bad enough to have to watch the confusing sport, but to do so with your teeth chattering and your eyes watering from the cold was downright unpleasant. She had two pairs of gloves with her and some jam jars to cast portable flames in to try and offset some of the chill.

A flurry of feathers, and the owl post streamed in. Her heart leapt as she got sight of Hermes, Percy's owl. A letter from Ron? Pigwidgeon was too small to make many long trips, so it had to be from him. At last. She grinned, and it felt strange. It had been too long. She fed Hermes some scraps from her plate and sent him on his way. She turned over the letter and sighed. It wasn't from Ron. The disappointment was sharp and bitter, although she should be used to it by now. He wasn't going to change, and really it was wrong of her to expect him to. Being communicative just wasn't his way. She couldn't force it. It wouldn't work anyway. She shoved the letter into her bag, and headed out towards the pitch. Neville fell in step with her, and she did her best to smile welcomingly.

'Morning Neville.'

'Hey Hermione, how are you?'

'Okay, you know yourself. It isn't easy being back.' She was surprised at her own honesty but then, she had always liked Neville. He had a kindness about him, a gentleness. She knew he was probably feeling much the same as she was.

He nodded. 'It's changed. We have too.'

Not all the change was bad though. Neville was more confident. The transformation that had begun in Dumbledore's Army had continued. He held himself taller now, and he spoke with a sureness that was new. It gave her heart. He was in her Herbology class, and she was amazed by his aptitude for the subject. He just had an intuitive way with the plants and herbs of the likes that she'd only seen in Professor Sprout. It was quite extraordinary. He was going on to study the subject further after his NEWTs, and it wouldn't surprise her if he was as successful as Newt Scamander himself. When she had told him as much, he had blushed furiously but been very, very happy. He had come a long way from the timid and clumsy first year she'd once known, he had discovered his true potential.

'Yes, we have. I think we were right to come back though, to finish school properly.'

'As if you would do anything else, Hermione. I could never imagine you not studying or taking the NEWTs. Else than being a diehard Quidditch fan, of course.'

'Oh stop smirking, Neville. You're no better at flying than I am.'

He coughed something that sounded suspiciously like wonky faint and she glared at him.

Gryffindor had dominated the game right from the start. Ginny's team were ferocious, and it was clear from the very first play that Ravenclaw didn't stand a chance. Hermione had known Ginny was a fantastic Chaser, but her hardcore training had made her even more incredible. She was daring and fierce. Ginny had kindly given Hermione's group of muggleborn first years a chat on the basics of Quidditch so they would be able to follow the game. Most of what she said had been news to Hermione too, and she reluctantly admitted that the sport was more enjoyable when you actually knew the rules. She tried to stay focused on the game, to follow what was happening. She needed to be in the moment more, to actually be present in her final year. Besides, this was so important to Ginny, it would be nice to be able to discuss it with her later.

After the match, Hermione headed straight for the library. There would be no hope of getting any work done this evening, the celebrations would be raucous. Spirits were always high after a victory, and she'd promised Ginny she would at least make an appearance at the party. Taking her notes out of her schoolbag, Hermione came across the letter she had received that morning. She had calmed down somewhat, and was no longer so angry that it wasn't the letter she wanted it to be. She opened it, curious as to who else would be writing to her. As she read George's words, her eyes filled with tears.

 _I don't know how to live without Fred. It feels so wrong…_

 _I just feel this constant heaviness, it never gives. It's like I'm always being weighed down by this…_

 _I'm not the person I was before, I don't know who I am now. I can't tell you how badly I wish I didn't have to live like this…_

 _It's so difficult here, with mum watching me the whole time. I know she means well, and seeing how much pain I am causing her is fucking terrible. This is tearing us all apart._

She put the letter down, wiping away tears. His pain came across so powerfully…the loss, the confusion, the sorrow. It meant a lot that he had trusted her with this; that he had opened up to her about how he was feeling. It was a big step, something that was really scary to do. At the same time, she felt the pressure of it. She wasn't sure how to reply, what she could say that would help. Being there was the most important thing though, being able to listen to him. He seemed to be so worried about putting extra pressure on his family, but equally talking to someone who knew Fred was important. She knew herself that writing could be easier than talking, and she imagined the distance helped too. It made things feel a bit safer, there was more space there.

She put the letter back in her bag. The reply needed thought and care, she wanted to help him and she needed time to process what he had told her. It was an awful lot and she was worried about him. She had a lot going on herself with school, with the trauma of the war, with her parents…she was avoiding thinking about them. She would have to make things right, but she had no idea how. She could empathise with that feeling of loss, of absence…but at least they weren't gone forever. At least, she hoped they weren't.

She got into her work, glad of the distraction. She loved when she could work well like this, when she was absorbed by it. She felt engaged, connected, part of something. The escape from her thoughts was extremely welcome, and while the Quidditch afterparty wasn't something that appealed to her, at least she could go along without feeling guilty about not studying.

Throughout the day, George's words echoed in her mind. When she emerged from her bookish haze, the sadness settled down on her again as she thought of him, trapped in The Burrow, stuck in time. It was crazy to think of one of the Weasley twins staying still for more than a couple of minutes, they were both such whirlwinds of energy. George shouldn't be living like this. It wasn't good for him. And she knew, though George might deny it, that Fred would hate to see him this way. In the Dining Hall at dinner time, she watched the Patil twins. Parvati was gloating about the Gryffindor victory, as Padma plaited her long dark hair for her. Padma had cut her own hair short over the summer, so the two no longer looked completely identical. They had that kind of sibling shorthand, that way of working with each other, they were a double act. Watching them made her heart break for George, who would never have moment like this…not hair braiding, of course, but that way twins seemed to have of finishing each other's sentences, of working together. She knew it would take a long long time for him to get better, she knew no letter would make this all better. She just hoped she could help him somehow.

 _It's like being a half, I don't feel whole without Fred…_

The party in the Gryffindor Common Room was boisterous, music and dancing and cheering. You would think they had won the Quidditch Cup, not just their first match. It felt a bit odd, a bit out of sync with how things should be but it was good too. Hermione liked to think that things like these were little steps in rebuilding their lives, in getting back to some kind of normal. Ginny was the centre of attention, and it was great to see her friend smiling and laughing. Ginny didn't get enough chances to be happy anymore. Hermione sat in the Common Room, and chatted with some of the other students. She was content here, on the fringes of the party. Ginny came over and landed beside her, eyes shiny. Hermione wasn't sure if it was with happiness or with tears. Both, it seemed.

'You played fantastically today, Gin. Really. I may have even enjoyed watching the match.'

'Merlin's beard! Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione Granger?!'

Hermione laughed. 'Did you put something in my pumpkin juice?'

Ginny leaned her head on Hermione's shoulder, silent for a few minutes. They had their own little space over here, away from all the dancers with their slopping plastic cups of Butterbeer.

'You know' Ginny said, so softly that Hermione could barely hear her 'I really miss Harry.'

'Is the party reminding you of _that_ party?'

Ginny grinned sadly. 'Yeah, that was an amazing night. I mean, it's no snog in the Chamber of Secrets, but it was still dramatic.'

Hermione wrapped an arm around Ginny. 'You kicked ass today on that Quidditch pitch, Weasley. Enjoy your party, you know Harry is missing you too.'

They sat there in comfortable silence, and Hermione felt a rare sense of ease being here. Maybe this would work after all. Ginny went back to her adoring fans, and Hermione headed back to bed. She would reply to George in the morning, right now she was feeling tired for once, like sleep might actually come.

The next morning, the Common Room was silent, everyone else seemed to be partied out. Hermione cast a quick cleaning charm to rid the place of confetti and streamers. It was a bright, clear October morning and she decided to head out for a walk. She was to meet with Ernie MacMillan and Headmistress McGonagall later to discuss the school year, so she wanted to make the most of the quiet time she had this morning. Although the sun was shining, it was still chilly outside. Her Gryffindor scarf was wrapped snugly around her neck, and a huge wooly hat that she had liberated from Ron kept her ears warm. The morning air was crisp and bracing. She took deep calming breaths as she walked out toward the lake. There was something about the coolness of the morning that she always found cleansing.

Out by The Great Lake there was a rock she often sat on when she needed some time to contemplate, and just get away from everything. She perched there now, and looked out across the dark, glossy expanse of the water. It was so placid and calm this morning that it was hard to believe anything sinister could lurk in its depths. She hugged her knees to her chest, remembering sailing across that lake as a young first year, getting her first look at the magnificent structure that was the Hogwarts Castle. When she graduated, herself and the other final year students would sail back across that lake, away from their school years. She liked the tradition, how they would come full circle. Ron never came near the lake again after the Triwizard Challenge .('Are you mad, 'Mione? Why would you want to be near that awful place?') She didn't know why, after all they had been enchanted the whole time they were at the bottom of the lake. The first thing Hermione remembered was waking when they broke the surface of the water, finding herself in Viktor's strong arms. He swam them to shore and she had been the envy of Krum's many, many fans. He had wrapped a towel around her first, told her what she meant to him. She had kissed him then, quickly, despite the fact that they were surrounded by people. It was very un-Hermione-Granger-like but then…how many times are you rescued from vicious merpeople? Come to think of it, maybe _that_ was why Ron was so against coming out here…the subject of Viktor Krum never went down well. He hated that Hermione was still in touch with Krum.

Taking advantage of the calm and the privacy out here, Hermione took out a notebook, creating a makeshift desk on her knees. She leaned her parchment on it, and began to respond to George. His honest, emotional letter deserved a careful reply, yes, but also a prompt one. She could imagine how nervous he must be waiting for her response. She chewed her lip thoughtfully, unsure as to how to even begin this letter.

 _Dear George,_

 _I was very moved by your letter…_

Ugh no.

 _Thank you for writing to me…_

He wasn't a penpal.

 _I am glad you wrote to me. Your letter was so honest and brave. I know you'll scoff at that word, but I think it was brave of you to open up like that to me._

Not ideal, but true. Sincerity was probably the best she could do here. He would know it was genuine and heartfelt. The letter took her an hour to write, even though it wasn't long. It was incredibly frustrating – trying to be optimistic but not peppy, trying to avoid clichés or brush things off. In the end though, she felt her response was acceptable. At the very least, it communicated her concern about him, and her understanding (to an extent, anyway) of his pain. It was possibly the best and most emotional thing she had ever written. In response to his questions about how she was doing, she thought a letter like his deserved a response that was real too.

 _It's harder being back here than I thought it would be. I am constantly being reminded of the battle, of course I am, I'm living in the battleground. It's also difficult to focus on my studies after everything that happened last year. You know how hard I try to push myself, but it doesn't seem to be working anymore. I am worried I have lost my touch, or that I won't do as well as I should._

It was a relief, to be able to speak openly about this. She signed off the letter, wishing George and the Weasleys well, and sent it off to him. Then she went back to the Common Room, where the first of the bleary-eyed Gryffindors were emerging from their dorms.


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapt 7 updated with a new scene in which Hermione writes to George._

 _Disclaimer: Characters and world are JK Rowling's._

 _Hope you enjoy this chapter, pleased to say I am ahead on NaNoWriMo. Boggledy-eyed at this point so apologies for any errors._

 _Thanks to the lovely reviewers, most especially to eagle-eyed Clara-Bragge Ravenclaw. You have all really encouraged me, so thank you :)_

 **Chapter 8 – George**

George couldn't remember ever being this anxious about receiving a letter before. He remembered their mum being anxious about the results of their OWLs, but himself and Fred hadn't been too bothered. It wasn't that they weren't smart, they just never saw much of a point in classes. They were both too active for that. Well, Fred was. George was more inclined to study or read than his twin. Hermione Granger herself had been impressed by their spellwork, and it made them both very proud when Professor Flitwick had kept a corner of their Portable Swamp intact, calling it a good piece of magic. They'd learned far more in setting up their own business than they had from school. It suited them, and their inventiveness far trumped any of their lessons. They were more practical types really.

Waiting for this letter from Hermione was torturous. He knew he'd told her a lot, he knew she was busy and had better things to do that sit about writing to him...but he was in agony. This must be what it was like to be one of those lovesick saps pining after someone. George had never really experienced that. He'd had crushes at school, sure. He'd kissed Alicia Spinnet on the night of the Yule Ball, but after an excruciatingly awkward date in Hogsmeade they'd decided they were better off sticking with being friends and teammates. There had been a cute girl in Flourish and Blotts he'd flirted with when they set up Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. He'd even brought her a love potion one day as a joke when he went down to buy a book. (Well, that had been his plan the first time he met her. After that, the books were never the main attraction). They gone to Florian's for ice cream on a lunch break that day, he'd joked that the love potion was his back-up plan and she had threatened to look after taking it. It had been the best date he'd ever been on. He hadn't thought of Sylvie in months, but now he really hoped she was okay and safe. He wondered where that flirtation might have gone if it weren't for the wizarding war. For all he knew she might still work in that bookshop, but that time, that George, seemed far away now. The thought of going back to the shop...it was just too much to bear. He couldn't handle it on his own...not hearing Fred singing off key, or swearing if he dropped something in the store room, not having someone to bounce ideas off. None of the products were purely George's or Fred's creation...it was all about the fusion.

In that letter, he'd opened up more to Hermione than he ever had to anyone else. He was amazed at how cathartic the act of writing it all down was. He'd never kept a diary or journal. Not just because it was a sappy thing to do, but because in a house like The Burrow privacy simply didn't exist. There wasn't really a distinction between your room and someone else's, or your possessions and someone else's. They had slagged Percy for months after finding Penelope's photo in his room, and they had mocked him mercilessly as he waited for her letters. Percy. Damn. That's who he was like right now, looking out the window hopefully for an approaching owl, imagining he heard a hoot. He was pathetic. He looked at the clock, it was only eleven am. He had to give her a chance. He made another cup of tea, something to keep his hands busy. They had a muggle kettle now, his dad was absolutely obsessed about it. Normally George would just cast a heating charm on the water, but the ritual of this would be calming, and it would pass a few more minutes at least. Fill kettle, switch it on, get a cup, pop in a tea bag, wait, wait, wait. Pour the water, get the milk, allow it to brew. He sat at the kitchen table, the hot mug warming his hands. However, while it occupied his hands, it didn't occupy his mind one bit.

What if Hermione had read the letter and decided he was completely crazy? What if it had scared her, or upset her? What if she thought there was no hope for him? Maybe she would never reply and he would never know why because...well, he couldn't bloody well ask her, now could he? It was awkward, and he felt very vulnerable. All the power was in her hands, she held the Quaffle now. All he could do was wait. He had never been particularly good at waiting. It had occurred to him that his current lifestyle could be at least partly to blame for his unhappiness. Idleness did not suit him. He was used to being busy and active, to running about constantly. Now he tended to sit around for hours, just staring into space. It was enough to drive anyone mad. As he drank the tea, he tried to think of something he could do. The thought of doing anything was ludicrous. He had grown so used to this solitary, sedentary lifestyle that going out into the world seemed utterly alien to him.

The house was quiet. His family were all out working. He was struck with the thought that he should probably be working too. Maybe it would even help. Molly had recently taken up some part-time work, and it had been a great help to her. The routine, the purpose…it had made a difference. It was good to see his mum busier. She was teaching a knitting class in a craft shop in Ottery St Catchpole, and had a few hours working in the shop too. Now, George saw the good in it. Anything that made her happy was a positive thing. It was unfair of him to try and hold them all back, just because he wasn't ready to move on. Percy was working in a library of old wizarding texts, and he was doing well. They were getting on better with him than ever before, even though things were still somewhat strained and careful given the short amount of time that had passed since their reconciliation. George recognised that he had matured himself, he was being kinder to Percy. He was giving him a chance. There was a certain amount of guilt there, maybe himself and Fred had never really given Percy a chance. Looking back, they had been very hard on him. Ron was training as an Auror, of course. What else would Ron and Harry do after saving the wizarding world? They were practically Aurors already, in all but title. The training seemed intense, and Ron was tired and sometimes battered up. Still, he seemed content with it.

George went out for a walk. Walks were about the only outings he was up to at this point, and even they were a recent addition to his routine. The trip to Hogsmeade had been a big deal, and really a bit overwhelming. He was quite insulated here, he rarely encountered anyone other than his family members. It was rare that they would bring anyone home, George was so unpredictable and they were worried about how he would react. It was hard knowing that was how they felt about him, but he knew that it was justified. He hadn't always behaved well when Angelina had visited in the past. He was ashamed to admit that he had yelled, and even, on one occasion, cried. It was no wonder that they weren't exactly throwing open the doors of The Burrow. He knew it wasn't fair. He was holding them all back. He was on the outskirts of Ottery St Catchpole. It would be nice to visit his mum, she would appreciate it. He hovered, thinking. He hadn't been into the village in a couple of years, never mind since Fred. It was a fairly sleepy place. It shouldn't be too overwhelming. He knew it would mean a lot to Molly that he was making the effort, and taking an interest in her work. He counted to ten, squared his soldiers and walked down into the village. It was picturesque, rows of houses, some cottages, and little family-run shops. The bakery was bustling. He kept his head down, moving by quickly. He stopped at the window of a small bookshop, looking at the titles in the window. Maybe a book would be a nice distraction…it had been ages since he had read anything. He moved on, past the café and the post office, and then he spotted the shop, it was called The Crafty Fox, and painted in pretty pastel colours. He recognised some of his mother's creations in the window display, and he could see her inside the shop. She was sitting at the head of the table, demonstrating a cable stitch to the class. The village had a mixture of magical and Muggle residents, so her needles weren't enchanted. She had mentioned something about classes involving knitting charms, but George imagined it would be difficult to organise it secretly. As she was finishing up the class, he quietly slipped into the store, browsing the colourful selection of wool as she examined her students' work. When she spotted him, she gave a happy cry and came over to hug him. He let her, and embraced her back. He was so proud of her. This was such a big deal for her, and it was lovely to see her smiling, to see how patient and kind she was with her students.

'Great work, mum. This is fantastic.'

She actually had tears in her eyes. George felt a bit awkward. 'Thanks so much for coming dear, here, let me show you around.'

She held onto his arm, as though afraid he would disappear. He wouldn't lie, when the class looked up at him, disapparating seemed like a pretty solid plan.

'Now ladies, this is my son George.'

'Do you knit, George?' One of the women piped up.

'Er no, but I wear the jumpers and hats mum makes. They're great.'

Before he knew what was happening, the ladies had George sitting at the table with needles and wool. He was actually glad Fred couldn't see this, he would never let him live it down. He was absolutely mortified, but he hadn't seen his mum smile this much in ages. He drew the line at becoming a regular in her knitting circle though, that wasn't the kind of getting out he needed to do. An hour later, George had a lumpy woollen rectangle that he was assured was the beginnings of the scarf. Molly linked his arm and as they walked back home, she filled him in on the gossip from the knitting class, and the news from the village. Now he knew the people involved, the stories were entertaining and it was great to see her in such high spirits.

'And George, if you're going to be out and about, I really ought to cut your hair. You're looking a bit unkempt.'

While he was pleased she wasn't on tiptoe around him anymore, being called scruffy wasn't great. 'Fine. But only a little bit. I want to keep it a bit longer.' He didn't say, but he was glad to have his missing ear covered, people tended to stare. Also, he was happy to look a little less Fred-like. She nodded, and sat him down before he could change his mind. He just knew she had been thinking this for weeks, maybe even months, and had been biting her tongue. There was no point in fighting her. It was worth it for the look of surprise on Ron and Arthur's faces when they arrived home from work and saw him getting his hair cut.

When he was looking more presentable, his mum gave him another hug.

'There's a letter here for you, son.'

He practically snatched the letter from his dad, heart pounding. Despite his panic about its contents a small part of him was relieved that Ron hadn't found the letter and questioned why his girlfriend was writing to his older brother. He wondered how long the letter had been lying there. He tried to look calm, as he excused himself and went upstairs to read her reply. His hands were actually shaking, and his breathing was shallow. He sat down slowly, and just held the letter in his hands. Her reaction really mattered, more than she probably knew. He unfolded the piece of parchment, and began to read her careful handwriting. Tears rolled down his cheeks at her kind words, at the revelation of her own turmoil. It was a long letter, one he would read and re-read. He ran his fingers over the last paragraph, feeling conflicted.

 _Write to me, keep me updated. I want to be here for you. I know you can do this – you can find your way again. Fred will always be a part of you, you know that. You're not betraying him by living again, you're honouring him, you're making him proud._

 _Best,_

 _Hermione_


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: Characters and world are JK Rowling's._

 _Thanks for the reviews, and the support. It means a lot :)_

 **Chapter 9 – Hermione**

Plans were well underway for Hallowe'en at Hogwarts. It had been suggested by Professor Flitwick that Hermione and Ernie dress up and do some kind of skit as part of their speeches. Neither of them was too keen on the idea. Professor McGonagall was in two minds – it wasn't proper, but fun was in short supply these days. Ernie made his case earnestly: 'With all due respect, Professors, such antics are surely not befitting for the Head Boy or Head Girl. Myself and Hermione's roles should command respect and admiration. We should be people the younger students wish to emulate, not snigger at.' While Hermione's objections were less pompous, she was also keen not to make a spectacle of herself in front of the entire student body. She tried to lighten the mood by suggesting that they could dress up as wizards, but the joke was lost on Ernie and the professors, with their pure-blood backgrounds. She made a mental note to repeat the joke to her first-year group, they would get a kick out of it. Hermione suggested she could tell the Mountain Troll story, with a moral of bravery and friendship, but the idea was shot down by Professor McGonagall who felt it might incite panic (or worse, recklessness) among the younger students. Ernie suggested sharing memories of the announcement of champions for the Triwizard Tournament, but in respect of Cedric Diggory's memory this idea was also rejected. In the end, it seemed they would have the traditional Hallowe'en Feast, complete with flying bats and giant pumpkins in the Great Hall and, presumably, some mischief from the ghosts. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington never tired of frightening new students with his almost-severed head and Hallowe'en always made Peeves the poltergeist positively nightmarish.

Hallowe'en fell on a Saturday this year, so they had their Hogsmeade trip on the day itself. Hermione and Ginny were keen to escape the castle and their essays for the day, especially to see Hogsmeade on Hallowe'en. They passed by Hagrid's hut on their way to the village. He was outside, hefting huge pumpkins into a wheelbarrow to transport them to the Great Hall. They gave him big cheery waves, but didn't stop for a chat. Ginny muttered 'keep moving, keep moving' under her breath. If they got talking to Hagrid, they would never make it off the castle grounds today. They knew they were overdue a visit to their old friend…but after last time, they had been putting it off. The visit had started normally enough, with Hagrid's trademark rock buns that lived up to their name. Sitting by the fire, they had drank from buckets of tea and nibbled unenthusiastically at the inedible treats as Hagrid told them about Grawp and Buckbeak and his teaching plans. However, before long Hagrid was lamenting the deaths of Fred, Tonks and Lupin and they were all weeping. Given Hagrid's size his tears splattered them both. Hermione hadn't thought it was possible for any of them to cry as much as they had that day. A couple of hours after they had arrived, they finally made their escape, but not without a bone-crushing, tear-soaked hug first. The experience had been completely emotionally draining, and they were in no hurry to repeat it. Hermione didn't think she would be able to face that again.

Ginny had a spring in her step as they walked down to the village. Clearly, she couldn't wait to see Harry again. Hermione teased her about it, but Ginny just smiled. There was no point denying what was so obviously true. Hermione was glad for them. It made her very happy that two of the best people she knew loved each other. They were both going through a tough time. Ginny didn't talk about last year at Hogwarts, what she had endured at the hands of the Carrows, but Hermione could imagine how horrendous it had been. Ginny was brave and fierce, but the battle had scarred her too. They had seen awful things. Most obviously, there was Fred's death and how this had impacted on the family. Bill was the brother Ginny looked up to most, but Hermione knew Fred and George had been a huge influence on her. Ginny's mischievous streak, her fiendish Bat-Bogey Hexes…both were directly related to living with the twins. They had encouraged Ginny when they learned of her secretive Quidditch playing, and, recognising her talent, they had helped her train and learn more about the sport. It was clear they really loved her. One night Ginny had said to Hermione that the worst part of it was that she felt she hadn't just lost Fred, George was gone too. He was practically a ghost. Living with her friend, Hermione had seen her struggle, but she had also seen how hard she was working to get better and to achieve her dreams. She was very proud, and she hoped Harry realised just how incredible Ginny was. She knew Ginny recognised Harry's brilliance and bravery, and they had been such a support to each other over the past few months.

Ron was to come today as well. He had responded to Hermione's last letter with a note that was disappointingly brief and emotionless, but made her happy nonetheless.

 _Hi Mione,_

 _Auror training is good but tough. I'm sure you are studying hard at Hogwarts._

 _See you at Hogsmeade next week._

 _Love,_

 _Ron_

Harry had written to Ginny that they would both be at Hogsmeade. Hermione was excited, although in a more contained way than Ginny. Seeing Ron in person would be wonderful. She couldn't wait to see his smile, to hug him, to kiss him. She felt maybe she had been expecting too much of him with the letters, he couldn't help not being inclined to write. She hoped that when she saw him today, they would have that connection she had been craving. Hell, what she wouldn't give even for a fight with him. She missed him more than she had expected she would. The thought of him – tall and solid, with those clear blue eyes – made her heart flutter still. It was hard to believe that after so much fighting, so much longing, so much jealousy, they had finally found their way to one another. She knew they belonged together, and the past couple of months without him had been tough. The distance had been worrying – it sometimes felt more than just geographical – but seeing him today would surely ease her worries. She exchanged a giddy smile with Ginny, feeling lighter just for being out of Hogwarts.

They had told the boys they would meet them at one. Having left the castle early, they had some time to browse around the shops first. They stocked up on chocolate frogs and liquorice bats at Honeydukes, laughed at the new fashions in Gladrags Wizardwear (neither of them were too keen on the neon pink and green robes the salesgirl was pushing) and Hermione bought some Herbology supplies in Dogweed and Deathcap. At quarter to one they nabbed a table in The Three Broomsticks, ordering butterbeers. Just after one o'clock, Harry came through the door, looking around for them. Ginny gave him a big wave. It took him a few minutes to make it over to their table, as people clapped his back or shook his hand. Madame Rosmerta came over with a butterbeer ('on the house, love') and she hugged him tightly. Harry's face was flaming red, and Hermione realised that perhaps meeting somewhere less busy would have been a good idea. Still, Harry was the saviour of the wizarding world, there was nowhere he could go without getting this reception. He was embarrassed by all the attention, but going around under the Invisibility Cloak all the time just wasn't feasible. Ginny rose from the table to greet him, and even though they were in a busy pub, she kissed him square on the mouth. The other patrons whooped and cheered, and Harry went, if possible, even redder in the face. Ginny grinned evilly. She didn't tell Harry that he had a smudge of her lipstick on his face. They took their seats. One look at Harry's expression told Hermione there would be no Ron joining them today. She always could read Harry like a book. She sighed, and to her shame, she felt tears pricking at her eyes. There was a small part of her that thought this was typical, but for the most part she had believed Ron was going to come today, and it was a thought that had kept her going. He was her boyfriend. He should be here. He was meant to be on board with this relationship.

Harry scratched the back of his neck. 'Er, something came up at work for Ron. He's really sorry, he did want to see you. Really. He couldn't help -'

Hermione held a hand up. She didn't want to hear another word.

'Harry, don't bother. I know you saved us all, but you are a terrible liar. No offence. He couldn't be arsed to come see his girlfriend. Fine.'

Her words were sharp, her tone cutting. She took a swig of butterbeer, and slammed the glass down more forcefully than she'd intended. She saw Harry and Ginny exchange a worried glance, and made a valiant effort to blink back her tears. There was no need for their day to be ruined too. She had to gain control over herself.

'I'm sorry, I was excited to see him. I thought he wanted this too.'

Her voice wavered a bit, and she did cry a little bit. It was embarrassing. Ginny took her hand. Harry looked incredibly uncomfortable. Hermione could imagine this was a difficult situation, being caught between his two best friends. Really, considering himself and Ron were training as Aurors and also living together at Grimmauld Place, she suspected she was the second-best friend now.

'Tell us how things are going Harry. Don't mind me, I'll be fine.'

As Harry told them about his training and filled them in on news from the world outside Hogwarts, Hermione calmed herself down. This wasn't the time or the place for an emotional outburst. They chatted for a while about Hogwarts, about their friends and memories. Hermione astounded Harry with her analysis of the first Quidditch game of the season.

'Did Ginny give you a spiel to memorise or something?'

'Please. As if she would tell me to say the Ravenclaw beaters were impressive.'

'But…you never had thoughts on our Quidditch matches.'

'Guess it depends who's playing, Harry.'

Ginny hooted with laughter, Harry just looked shocked. It was good to see him again. School wasn't the same without him, or without Ron of course. After a while, she started to feel a bit awkward. She hadn't planned to be a third wheel, she had been certain that Ron would turn up. Usually she would really on the evidence (such as his lack of communication) but she trusted him. She had believed his word. More fool her. She wanted to give Harry and Ginny some time together.

Ignoring their protests that they were happy to have her there, really, she went for another wander around the village. She wasn't ready to go back to the castle just yet. She thought about Ron as she walked, wondering why he hadn't come. Harry's excuse had been a load of crap. If Ron had work commitments, Harry would have been in the same situation. Unless Ron was struggling with training? Maybe he needed to do some extra work, and was embarrassed about it, and had told Harry not to let her know? She shook her head. She deserved a proper excuse at least, it wasn't asking too much. She wondered if maybe she was wrong about herself and Ron. Maybe long distance would prove to be too much of a challenge for them. Maybe their relationship needed proximity, maybe it wasn't strong enough to survive this stretch. She tried not to compare their relationship with Harry and Ginny's, she knew it wasn't fair to do that. But at the same time…if Harry could make the effort to visit or to write, why couldn't Ron? Moreso, why wouldn't he? They definitely had chemistry, their relationship had been building up for so long, sparks were definitely flying. Could they really have burned out so quickly? Was it a case of spectacularly bad timing – finally getting together only to be torn apart by war, loss and distance? Surely they had been through enough together to get through this?

She wished she knew what Ron was thinking. She was torturing herself trying to work out what was going on with him. Why wouldn't he just talk to her? They were old enough now to be mature about this. She thought they were mature enough to give this a relationship a proper shot. Was she expecting too much of him? Was she trying to use him to fill this void inside her, this sense of loss and pain? Should she just take the hint? Clearly he didn't care about her like she did about him. She was more hurt by his absence than she'd let on with Harry and Ginny. It was painful to know she wasn't as essential to Ron as he was to her. She wanted them to be there for each other, she wanted them to show how they felt. She wanted him. But it seemed that he didn't want her, not anymore.

As she walked back into the castle, she saw Harry and Ginny saying goodbye to one another. Harry tucked Ginny's red hair behind her ear, kissed her long and soft and slow. The way they looked at each other…Ron had looked at her like that during the summer. She loved Ron. She hadn't told him, but she did. Despite his many flaws, she loved him. Now she was quite sure the feeling wasn't mutual.

She turned away from the happy couple and walked on, heart heavy with sadness and stabbed with jealousy.


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: JK owns the world and the characters, and JK I am not. Alas!_

 _Our world is scary at the moment, I hope like me you find comfort in fictional worlds._

 _Thanks as ever for the support :)_

 **Chapter 10 – George**

It was clear that Molly Weasley was just dying to know who George's penpal was. The letters arrived at least weekly, and George pocketed them immediately. He saw her watching him curiously, and knew she was trying to work out who he could be writing to. She casually referred to some of his friends from school in conversation, trying to work out if he'd been in contact with them. She asked him if anything unusual had happened in Hogsmeade, or on one of his walks. Maybe she thought he had a beau in Ottery St Catchpole. Not from her knitting class anyway, even though some of the ladies were outrageous flirts. He'd been roped in as Molly's assistant. Mainly this involved carrying supplies and making tea. So much tea. He didn't mind though, it made his mum happy and it was a change from the house. The fact is was somewhere Fred wouldn't have set foot in helped too, it felt like a new and different space. His knitting was absolutely pitiful. The scarf he was making was more holes than anything. One of the ladies assured him that he could pass it off as some kind of pattern. 'That's what I always do, love. I tell the older ones that it's the new style.' Sure enough, George noticed a couple of people knitting scarves with sloppy lacy patterns. Mabel was a crafty one.

'Well, you're popular, aren't you? Another letter!' His mum's voice was breezy, but her eyes were keen. She looked at the letter as though trying to see through the parchment. He was impressed at her restraint. He thought she would have demanded to know who the sender was when the first letter arrived a few weeks ago. He decided to take pity on her.

'I've been writing to Hermione.'

'Hermione? Hermione Granger?'

It certainly wasn't who Molly had been expecting, though George suspected she really didn't have a clue who he'd been contacting. Angelina would probably have been her best guess, but then again they had only seen her yesterday, for her monthly visit.

'The one and only. After I met up with her and Ginny in Hogsmeade, she wrote to me, saying I could write to her if I wanted to talk about...things.' He trailed off, awkwardly.

The letters were friendly, but they seemed weirdly private somehow. He supposed they were very personal. He found the letters allowed him to open up in a way he couldn't seem to in conversation. He got awkward, or scared, or he just didn't try in the first place because it was too difficult and too frightening. Sending off a letter, words on a page, without having to see the other person's face as they took it in...it was easier. Even still, his stomach lurched when he thought of Hermione reading his words, his breath caught when a reply arrived. Letters were also good in that, it gave him time to think and respond, time to process what she had said. It meant he gave her better responses, not stupid remarks he hadn't really thought through. He made sure to always ask what was going on in her life, he didn't want the letters to be all about him. Going back to school was a big deal, and he knew she'd had a rough year hunting for the Horcruxes. She always acted like she was in control, so he hoped she found having a space to express what was really going on helped her too.

'Oh that's nice. I'm glad you're opening up about it, George. I have noticed a change in you.' She paused, seeming to hesitate. 'Does Ron know about this?'

'I haven't told him. Maybe Hermione has.'

Molly nodded, a strange expression on her face. 'I suppose that's probably for the best. He can be...difficult. And you're just writing. You're friends. It's fine.'

George wasn't sure who she was trying to convince, him or herself. He wasn't convinced that keeping this from Ron really was for the best, but it had been a while since he'd seen his brother. Ron and Harry were living together, and the intensity of their training kept them both pretty busy. This should be a proper conversation, not a throwaway comment.

Another owl arrived, with a letter for Molly. 'Oh! From your sister, how lovely.' It was surprising to hear from Gin, she'd only written yesterday with it being the anniversary. Six months since the battle, since they had lost Fred. She had wanted to come home to mark it, but they had insisted she stay in school. It was easier this way. They all marked the day in their own quiet way. George's way (setting off some fireworks in the garden in Fred's memory) was not so quiet, but given the occasion it had been allowed. Molly was also allowing less wallowing after anniversaries – today herself and George were both due back in the craft shop.

'Life goes on, it has to.'

For the first time, George didn't entirely disagree with her.

Molly read the letter, and from the way her expression darkened George guessed the contents of the letter were anything but lovely. He felt the familiar anticipation of his mother's rage. He and Fred had received many furious Howlers from her in response to their pranks at Hogwarts. To be honest, they considered a prank that didn't result in a Howler to have been a poor effort on their part.

She looked up at George, her expression thunder. 'Ron stood Hermione up in Hogsmeade at the weekend.'

'What?'

'The idiot. Himself and Harry were to meet the girls in The Three Broomsticks. He sent Harry along with some stupid excuse, Hermione saw right through it of course. I didn't raise him to behave like this.'

'He's such an arse.'

Molly didn't even object to this. 'And Hermione is such a sweet girl. Your sister is furious. I wouldn't want to be Ron now.'

George actually laughed at this, surprising them both. An angry Ginny wasn't something George would wish on anyone. He could imagine her fuming waiting until after the anniversary to write, her rage reaching a crescendo.

'You'd better read Hermione's letter, love. I hope she is okay. Your brother will be hearing from me.'

Come to think of it, he wouldn't wish an angry Molly on them either. His mother was clearing her throat, and he could tell she was thinking of some choice phrases for the Howler. Mad as he was at Ron, George hoped she sent it to Grimmauld Place rather than to the Ministry. Still, he wouldn't put it past her.

'Oh, and if you have a couple of hours to spare later I could use a hand in the shop.'

It was kind of her to pretend he might have other plans, to give him the option of saying no.

'Sure, mum. Give Ron hell.'

He went outside to read the letter, sitting on a bench in the garden. Phrases like 'ungrateful bastard' 'stupid git' and 'bloody idiot' floated out to him. This would be a howler of a Howler. Part of him wished he could witness the delivery. It would be quite the spectacle. Ginny definitely got her flair for drama (and for violence) from their mother.

He was furious on Hermione's behalf. She deserved better than this, than being abandoned and humiliated. It was clear that she really loved Ron. Seeing the two of them together...it was almost sickening. They looked at each other with such love, such wonder that after everything they'd been through it had worked out. Honestly, though, they had to be the two most oblivious people on the planet. All that bickering, all those passions...the sexual tension was so obvious. Everyone had known for years that they fancied each other, it was really only a matter of time. So why was Ron screwing this up? She was always there for Ron, how could he let her down? George knew he hadn't been writing back to Hermione, and then to stand her up...didn't he realise how lucky he was to have this intelligent and caring girl? He thought Hermione was lucky to have Ron too. Although he could be a prat, Ron was brave and determined. It was clear they belonged together, and during difficult times like these, they should stand by each other, not hurt each other.

Ron had been acting strangely lately. On his rare visits to The Burrow he had been moody and sullen. George had assumed it was the strain of work, and the strain of everything that had happened. He had been too caught up in his own head to pay much attention to what was going on with Ron, but he remembered Ron's curt answers to their parents' questions, his angry silence, his leaving early. He was worried about his younger brother. Mainly pissed off with him, yes, but concerned too.

He read the letter. Hermione mentioned what had happened, but she downplayed it. She made it sound like it wasn't a big deal, but George knew it was. He knew she had been looking forward to seeing Ron again, how hard it was to try and keep their relationship up when they were doing such different things. He knew she was struggling, and that Ron's no-show, his rejection would have really hurt. But the letter was pretty upbeat. He didn't know how to respond. Should he follow his urge to comfort her, or should he follow her lead?

He knew she was one of those people who overthought everything, he was sure she had herself in a state worrying about the relationship, wondering what she did wrong. She would be replaying her actions, rethinking her every move. He wanted to reassure her - but seeing as she didn't make a fuss about what had happened, should he?

He would need more time to think this over. He really wasn't sure what to do. Also, he was stuck in the middle here. Ron was family, but it was clearly Hermione being hurt here. Even though they had only been writing to each other for a few weeks, he felt very close to her. She was his friend, she was there for him, and it was only right that he did his best to be there for her too.

Back in the house, his mother was sitting at the table, the Howler in front of her. 'I'm not sending it.'

George was shocked. His mum never missed the chance to send a Howler. It wasn't like her to hold her tongue when she was angry, or ever, really.

'Ron's an adult now...he can make his own choices. He's working, he's not living here. I can't call him out on his every mistake. Oh, but I am so mad at him.'

George put an arm around her. 'Did the Howler help?'

'Oh yes. They always do.'

'Can I listen to it?'

Her withering glare shut him up. 'Right. Sorry. I'll get the supplies for the class, will I?'

He was impressed. It can't have been easy to let go like that, to step back and not try to control her children's lives. He could only imagine what she had really wanted to say to him over the past few months, but she was letting him make his own way. He appreciated it. That evening he tried to respond to Hermione, but still wasn't in the right frame of mind. His anger at Ron was getting in the way. Sending her a page-long rant about him wouldn't be of any help.

Besides, he wasn't in great shape himself. Monday had been the six month anniversary of Fred's death. Six months. Half a year. So much could happen in that time. So little had, but if Fred had been here...the time just seemed wasted. It was really only in the last couple of months that there had been moments again. George wasn't sure how he felt about that. He was feeling...not like himself, but more like a person again. He felt like he was living, or at least trying to. Surely that was good? But at the same time, the loss felt as big, as gaping as ever.

A couple of days passed before he felt clear-headed enough to write something worthwhile. On Friday he sat down, determined to respond to Hermione. She deserved a decent letter, at the very least.

 _Hi Hermione,_

 _Ginny wrote to mum about the weekend, and I don't think it's as okay as you're saying it is. I know you must be hurt. You were looking forward to the weekend, and it was crappy of Ron not to show up, and to not give you a proper explanation. I know he does really care about you. I'm sorry this happened and please, don't blame yourself. It's not your fault my brother is a stupid git._

 _I hope the workload isn't too stressful - make sure you're taking breaks and looking after yourself. They're called Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests for a reason (or so I've heard...taking off like we did is an option of course). Don't wear yourself out._

 _I'm still helping mum out with her new job at the craft shop. It's been good to be out of the house a bit, and the ladies from her knitting class love me. Some of them have their eye on me I think...so I may have an older woman to introduce you to at Christmas!_

 _Seriously, though, I'm a bit stuck. I can't go back to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes without Fred. We worked so hard, we built up so much...but I can't do it on my own. The shop without Fred...it just wouldn't work. The ideas, the energy...it came from the two of us. I can't even go near the place, the thought of it being empty and over is too much. Without WWW though, what do I have? Without Fred, I don't even know who I am._

 _It's been six months. A whole half year without him. I hate to think of things happening that he won't be there for or won't know about. I think it's why I've been doing so little. That way, he's not missing anything. Mum said she's seen a change in me since we started writing...and I don't know how I feel about that. I definitely feel better for writing to you, but I don't want to change. I don't want to become a George that Fred wouldn't know or recognise._

 _Thanks so much for everything, I can't tell you, even here, how much of a difference writing to you has made. I hope it has helped you too and please, don't put on a brave face. As a wise woman once told me, it's okay to be hurting._

 _Take care Hermione._

 _Best,_

 _George_


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the characters and the world._

 _Today's chapter is a bit shorter. I'm off to visit a friend for the weekend so no chapter tomorrow (but I am ahead on my NaNoWriMo word count so it's okay!) I will be back with more words on Sunday._

 _Thanks for reading. Special thanks to ClaraBragge-Ravenclaw and cares 1970 for their kind words about Chapter 10._

 **Chapter 11 – Hermione**

Reading George's letter, Hermione cringed. The thought of the Weasleys discussing Ron standing her up was so embarrassing. She could just imagine them around the dinner table, talking about poor Hermione and how Ron had abandoned her. She imagined the news reaching Bill and Fleur. That was even more embarrassing. She would be willing to bet that no-one had ever ditched Fleur Delacour. Fleur's perfect little nose would probably wrinkle in distaste at the story, she would probably think that Hermione was clearly neither interesting nor beautiful enough to hold even her own boyfriend's attention. Oh, this was awful. She knew Ginny hadn't meant any harm…but the thought of everyone knowing about her humiliation was almost as bad as the act itself. It had been a week since that disastrous date and her anger and sadness had worn down to a kind of bitter disappointment. Ron hadn't written or offered any kind of excuse. She could no longer pretend that things were fine between them, clearly the distance wasn't their only problem. She wished she could be enough for him. She wished that last weekend's plans had never existed, so she wouldn't have to be burdened with this new knowledge. Not only was her boyfriend not here, but he didn't care.

Mostly though, her pride was wounded. Pushing away the embarrassment, she tried to focus on the other parts of the letter instead. It had been kind of George to acknowledge that Ron had treated her poorly, but she didn't want to dwell on the event. She was so worried about their relationship, if they even had one anymore, that what she wanted to do most was think about something else. It had benefitted her studies for sure, this week she had thrown herself into her work as a distraction. She read until she could barely keep her eyes open, then fell into a fitful sleep. She tried not to leave herself any room for thought or worry. But now, with George's letter in her hands, she allowed herself contemplate.

Six months…it was hard to believe. That day seemed long ago and nightmarish. It was the stuff of nightmares now, her sleeping hours were filled with carnage and pain. She wasn't the only one. It was fairly normal now for students to whimper, cry or scream in their sleep. The first year dorms were possibly the only quiet ones, but then few of their families would have been unscathed. In many ways, being here was awful. Trauma was everywhere – in every student, in every part of this castle. She wondered if she would have been better off taking her final year at Beauxbatons. Maybe it would have been easier, healthier. However, Hogwarts had brought her this world of magic and learning, it seemed only right to complete her education here. She wondered if this feeling of being haunted was something George felt too, only for him it must be worse. Fred was half of his whole life, the memories would be everywhere. It must be unbearable.

Six months…it filled her with guilt. Not only survivor's guilt, although she did think of those who they had lost. She thought of Fred Weasley. She thought of poor parentless Teddy Lupin – he should have Remus and Tonks doting over him. She thought of Lavender Brown, who should be back at Hogwarts too. No, the main source of guilt was thinking about her parents. She should have found them as soon as she knew the wizarding world was safe. But she had been injured, mentally and physically, and she simply wasn't able to travel. Ron needed her. It was time to go back to Hogwarts…She knew she had been putting it off, but she was scared. Finding them would be difficult, it was a big journey to make, especially given her anxiety after all she had been through. And then, she had their reaction to worry about. She didn't know how they would take the news that their daughter had performed a memory charm on them and shipped them off to Australia, even if it was for their own protection. There was a part of her that thought maybe they were happier with their new life, maybe they wouldn't want to come back here, to have to deal once more with a magical world that they did not understand, to have to care for a daughter who was damaged. The longer she left it, the more insurmountable the task seemed. Tracking down Wendell and Monica Wilkins in Australia, restoring their memories, bringing them home and helping them rebuild their lives in England, earning their forgiveness…if that last one was even possible. They were safe where they are, and she assumed they were happy too. She hadn't gone into this with George…it was complex, and at heart she knew that avoiding her parents wasn't the right thing to do. Some Gryffindor she was…she was a mouse, not a lion.

It was sad that George felt he couldn't go back to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. That place had been a dream for the twins, one they had worked hard to make a reality. It had been a booming business, a much needed source of joy as darkness loomed over the wizarding world. While Hermione had often disapproved of their pranks (and especially of their testing products on first years) but she had been so impressed by their shop and their products. They really were extraordinarily talented, they may have spent most of their school years messing, but their charms were impressive to say the least. It was sad to see their dream fading away. They had put so much energy and imagination into that venture, and turned it into a success. Their business know-how was as strong as their spellwork. She knew Fred would have wanted George to keep the business going, but at the same time she could understand how he wouldn't want to do it alone. It had been their baby, not just his. It couldn't possibly be the same now, and maybe George needed a new dream.

She could understand that George didn't want to change, but it was unavoidable. They had all been changed so much as it was. The past six months had already altered him so much. She didn't know if she could tell him this, but Fred wouldn't recognise this George either. Hermione didn't. He wasn't himself anymore, there was no escaping it. If Fred were still around, he would have changed too. War or no war, they all would change. But saying all this…it sounded harsh and cold. He was grieving. He wasn't okay, and he wouldn't be for a very long time. No matter what she said, what anyone said, he would heal at his own pace. She would heal in her own time too. It was frustrating, sometimes she felt she should be over it already, that compared to others she had little to complain about. Yet still it was there, even after all this time, that heavy dread in her stomach, that twisting anxiety. She wondered if it would always be like this, if this was the legacy the war had left her with. It had become familiar now, honed by the slow but steady march of darkness, their year of hunting Horcruxes, the torture, the battle, the loss. It was a part of her now, as sure as her heart or her lungs or her liver. The days of easy breathing, of sleeping well, seemed a distant memory. Yet even still, coming back to Hogwarts was a big step and she had settled into it more. Thoughts of the future that had once been hopeful were now just confusing, but she had started to think about the future again, and that was something.

George too was making some progress. She was willing him well with all her heart, and lately she had some cause for hope. Helping out at Mrs Weasley's knitting class was bizarre (a definite sign that he had changed) but it was a step forward. Writing to her was huge, and she was glad to know it was helping. It helped being able to unload to him too. The Muggle saying 'a problem shared is a problem halved' came to mind. It wasn't quite right, but having someone to share your worries with did lift the weight somewhat. George reassured her that it was okay to feel this pressure about coming back to school. Though she didn't believe his insistence that she was well able for the exams, that she had by no means lost her touch and was still the brightest witch of her age…it was still nice for someone to write that.

She slipped his letter into her pocket, carrying the words of kindness and strength with her through the day. She thought about the reply she would write…they had changed, they were changing, they would change. Being a different version of George was okay, he would still be himself at the core, and Fred would still love him anyway.


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: Characters and world are JK Rowling's. Overly emotional scenario is mine._

 _I am back! Not 100% about this chapter but I am not at my best today. I tried. Hope you like it._

 **Chapter 12 – George**

It had been a week, and he hadn't heard back from Hermione. Of course, George knew this would be a busy time for her at Hogwarts. As the end of the term approached she would be swamped with assignments and essays. He could imagine her practically living in the library, trapped in a tower of books. She would also be coaching her first years through homework and exams. And undertaking whatever the Head Girl's duties were. Then there was working out what she wanted to do after graduating, and getting started on any necessary applications. Of course, knowing Hermione, she was probably doing about fifty extra things too.

Even still, it was strange not to hear from her. She was usually very prompt in her responses. He wondered whether to write again, but then decided against it. He would only be hassling her. She was under enough pressure as it was, she didn't need to feel stressed out about writing to him too. He worried about becoming another task for her. He didn't want her to feel obliged to write to him, or to be another item on her to-do list. She had enough on her plate. He wanted to be a friend to her, not a burden. Sending another letter might tip the scales in the wrong direction. But then again, maybe commenting on her relationship with Ron had been intrusive or inappropriate. Maybe he should apologise…or maybe he should wait, give her time.

He found it odd, this sense of not knowing where they stood. Their friendship didn't really predate the letters. They had certainly been friendly before, and when Hermione had come to know himself and Fred better, they had had a good laugh together. For someone so serious, she could be a lot of fun too. But they'd really only been acquaintances before they started writing to each other. Because of that, he wasn't really sure of what the boundaries were. He wasn't sure how much he could share, or what he could ask her. He worried that he may have crossed a line he hadn't even known was there. He decided he would leave it a few days, then send her another letter. This friendship was so special, he didn't want to ruin it. He'd never had this kind of emotional closeness in a friendship before, and being able to express himself so openly and honestly was cathartic. Really, the recent change in him was all down to the letters, not the healing power of time or whatever other clichéd thing people came up with.

Hermione's letter arrived the next day. George shouldn't have doubted her. After he had helped Molly clear up after dinner, he went upstairs to read it. It was thicker than her usual letters, and he was wary about her response to his last letter…both the part about Ron, but also about her reaction to his feeing about the six month anniversary and how he had been changing. Before he lost his nerve, he began to read. He was right in being cautious about commenting on her relationship with Ron.

 _Hello George,_

 _Thank you for your kind words, but I can't talk about Ron with you. It's not fair to him, and it's not comfortable for me. He's your brother, and I won't speak badly of him to you. Also, he's my boyfriend, and I do love him. I'm embarrassed about what happened in Hogsmeade. If I am being fully honest with you…it's painful for me to think of my embarrassment being known and discussed by your whole family. I was hurt by Ron's actions, yes, but I don't want to be a victim in this. We have things to work out. I hope that we can work them out, because I do care very deeply about him and I want to give this our best shot. I haven't given up on him. That's all I will say about our relationship, but thank you for your concern. I am very glad we are friends now, George. It has been a great support for me, and I'm glad it is helping you too._

He hoped for both their sakes that they could work this out. Ron could be pig-headed, but he did care about Hermione. He could only imagine how difficult it was to keep a relationship together after everything they had been through. Coping with the fallout and the trauma of the wizarding war was incredibly difficult, trying to keep a relationship going at the same time must be a struggle. Long distance would only add to the pressure. The fact she was going to keep fighting for this made him admire her even more.

 _The reason is took me so long to respond to you is that I couldn't work out what to write. My attempts came out all wrong. I understand your worries about changing, really I do…but change is inevitable. Fred's death was always going to change you. You can't go back to your old self. And even if things hadn't gone so horribly that day…the experiences of being on that battlefield would still have altered you. Putting that aside…think of how you changed during your years at Hogwarts. We all grow, we alter, we change. But you're still George. You're still you, just evolving. You can't stay as nineteen-year-old George forever. Also, I know you're probably so sick of hearing this, but there is no way in hell that Fred would want that for you. You aren't betraying him by moving on and living on. Fred was so full of life and energy. He brought so much joy to his family and his friends. Don't you think living in that spirit would be the best way to honour him?_

George looked away. _Moving on. Living on_. Those phrases always stung. Sometimes he was angry. These people didn't know what it was like. Sometimes he was sad. He didn't have that energy, that lust for life, in him anymore. It was gone. It was so much harder than anyone realised.

 _Fred would be proud of you, George. He would want the best for you. He would want you to be happy. At first I didn't approve of your pranks and inventions. You know how it vexed me that the pair of you wanted to disrupt classes, or use first years…but later I saw that you were bringing fun and joy into peoples' lives. What could be better than that? You can move on without leaving him behind. His influence can still be in what you do. And we can remember him. We will remember him. I remember how loyal he was – how he defended me when Malfoy called me a Mudblood, how he defended your family, how bravely he fought in the final battle. I remember how smart he was, he wasn't bookish but the WWW products really were incredible. I remember his laugh. Even when I was angry at the pair of you, Fred's infectious laugh made it hard for me to stay stern. Whenever I walk by that patch of swamp (yes, it's still there) I think of him, and of you._

Her letter went on for several paragraphs, with more memories of Fred. George teared up reading it. People avoided mentioning Fred, trying not to upset him. Remembering could be good though. He hadn't realised how he had missed it until he read her words.

 _This has been a very long letter. But I hope you keep on going. I hope you see the progress you've made as a good thing. I know I do, and I think your family do too. And, I hope it's okay for me to say this, but I think Fred would see it as a good thing too. Take care of yourself, George._

 _I know we're finding our feet in this friendship (like discussing Ron being off limits) so I hope I haven't massively put my foot in it with this letter. I hope you'll write to me soon, but most of all I just hope you're okay._

 _Love,_

 _Hermione_

He leaned his head back against the wall, letting her words sink in. There was so much there. So much to remember, so much to think about. More than any other letter, this had been a gift. Now, he could see it as that. If she had sent him this letter a couple of months ago, when they had first started corresponding, he would have been furious. He thought of her reaction to her first letter, and realise he had come a long way. Maybe he should even apologise to that Healer…she had meant well, after all. He was glad she'd taken time with her response. The care and thought she had put into it was evident, it meant a lot that she had written this. Hermione really was a good person, she had such a kind heart. To be as busy as she was and find the time to write a long, compassionate letter like this…it was special. He still wasn't ready for a lot of what she had written yet. He knew he had a long way to go before he could be living the kind of life the letter envisioned…but her hope gave him heart. Her reassurances that changing didn't have to be a bad thing helped. The best version of George would always be the Fred-and-George George, but he could be better than he was now. Her letter made him want to try anyway.

He wished he could do something to help her too. She had done so much for him, she had become such a major part of his life. She was going through so much herself, and he wondered if there was a way he could support her. He thought of Ron again. Obviously interfering with their relationship would be wrong, it was really none of his business. He was sorry he had made her uncomfortable by bringing it up…but at least she knew he cared, that he felt sorry for the pain Ron had caused her.

Talking to Ron about Hermione would be wrong. His mother had been right about that, Ron was an adult now and capable of making his own decisions, good and bad. Still, he was worried about his brother. Ron hadn't been himself lately. None of them had, obviously, but he was concerned about Ron. The Auror training must be grueling, and surely the pressure of it on top of everything else would be a lot to handle. Hermione said she loved Ron. It had long been clear to George than Ron was besotted with her too. To neglect her like this…it wasn't like him. It was worrying, and George realised that Ron had been left on his own. Harry was there, but he was probably in worse shape than Ron, and he doubted they were having in depth conversations about their feelings. George was Ron's older brother, being there for him was the right thing to do. He had seen himself what a difference some concern could make. Maybe he could help Ron, that would be a way of changing for good. His old self had not been this caring.

It was settled, George would go to Grimmauld Place right now, and speak to his younger brother. It was 7 o'clock, they should be home. Before he could change his mind and decide it was too big a step (the Hogsmeade trip had taken its toll on him) George grabbed his coat. He scribbled a quick note and left it on the kitchen table. He didn't want to alarm his mother. Leaving now was essential, before he lost his nerve. He grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and took a deep breath. A few dizzying moments later and he stumbled from the fireplace and into Harry and Ron's sitting room. There he saw his brother on the sofa, kissing a girl who was most definitely not Hermione Granger.


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer: Character and world are JK's. Would that they were mine!_

 _Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, I will respond. Sorry (not really!) about that cliffhanger (mwahaha!)_

 _Here is today's offering._

 **Chapter 13 – Hermione**

After a stern warning from Madame Pomfrey, Hermione was trying to be more careful. She had broken down in tears in her Arithmancy class. She was embarrassed now, thinking of how she had sobbed and hyperventilated in front of her professor, in front of the other students. She was a mess she wasn't fit to be Head Girl or to be considered the brightest witch of her age. Biggest mess of her age, more like. The school nurse told her off for overworking herself and getting herself into this state.

'You still have a month to get through before we break up for Christmas, Miss Granger. You can't work yourself up like this. Besides you, of all people, need not worry about exams.'

Hermione hung her head. Her breath was still shallow and gaspy. 'I just want to do my best. And the pressure...'

In an unusually motherly moment, Madame Pomfrey wrapped an arm around Hermione's shaky shoulders. 'I know, love. It isn't easy being back here. The horrors I saw in this room.' She paused, considering. 'I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I've considered quitting. But then I remind myself that people need me here. I can be of use here. So can you, you know. I think you should consider those little first years you have helped. You have given them so much confidence. Now, show them that the end of term exams are something they can handle. Lead by example. After all you've been through, tests should be a doddle.'

Hermione nodded, and tried to look encouraged. This was the right thing to do. She was, if nothing else, someone who always tried to do the correct thing.

'Now, you take a little nap here. I've prepared you a Sleeping Draught, as I suspect you haven't had a proper sleep in some time.'

Hermione wanted to fight to go to her classes, but she was so tired. She followed Madame Pomfrey's instructions and the dreamless sleep that followed was such a relief.

Madame Pomfrey had helped Hermione work out a sensible schedule. She emphasized how rest and breaks would help Hermione work better, that working flat out was foolish and impractical. The logic of and evidence behind her arguments appealed to Hermione. She was to get at least one hour's downtime every evening. Tonight, a couple of days after the tearful scene in class, she was sitting in the Common Room with Ginny. She wished Ginny would stop casting her concerned looks. At least, out of respect for her, the couple of other students in her Arithmancy class had kept quiet about the incident. Hermione was glad it wasn't school-wide knowledge. She had told Ginny, but that was it. She suspected it was staff-wide knowledge though, and that her professors were keeping a close eye on her. It was embarrassing, but Hermione knew it was probably for her own good. It was hard not to get too intense about the work.

'Ginny, I'm fine, honestly. Look, I am relaxing. Lounging, even. I am a lady of leisure.'

'How do I know you aren't reciting definitions in your head though?'

'I suppose you don't.'

'Hermione!'

'Fine. If you must know, I was thinking about your brother.'

Ginny wrinkled her nose. 'Gross. TMI Hermione.'

Hermione swatted at her friend, but couldn't quite reach her. One of the disadvantages of being quite so leisurely. 'Not in that way, Gin.'

'Well if you weren't before, you probably are now.'

'Well...' Hermione smirked. She let out a little happy sigh.

Ginny covered her eyes. 'Oh Merlin's beard! Oh the images! Oh my brain! Why the hell did I bring this up?'

Hermione kicked Ginny. Aha! One could be leisurely and violent, it seemed.

'So. Have the two of you done it?'

Hermione gaped at her friend. How could she ask that so boldly, so publically? Had she no shame?!

'Gin!' Mercifully the Common Room was pretty deserted. There was no one sitting near them, and they had been speaking quietly anyway. 'I wouldn't ask about you and Harry.'

'Well?'

The Wizengamot should hire her. That inquisitive gaze was almost scary. This was a girl who got what she wanted.

'No.' Hermione blushed, even just thinking about this was uncomfortable.

'No?'

'I said no.'

'Not even during all those months of travelling together?'

Hermione gritted her teeth. Clearly Ginny wasn't going to drop this without a fight. Sometimes that girl was just too stubborn.

'No. Harry was with us too, remember? We all shared the same tent. It was hardly romantic. We were together all the time. What was I supposed to do? "Hey, Potter! Do you mind heading off into that creepy forest for a while so I can have sex with Ron?" That wouldn't have made the cabin fever worse at all.'

Ginny laughed so hard that she actually fell off the sofa. 'I...I...' she spluttered. 'Merlin. The thought of Harry's face.' She collapsed into another fit of giggles, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it herself.

'To be honest, I think Harry was pretty oblivious to all the sexual tension.'

'Typical Harry.'

They laughed for a bit, then Hermione decided to be honest with her friend.

'Look, what I was thinking about was how to fix things with Ron.' Hermione didn't meet Ginny's eyes. 'It doesn't feel right anymore, and I miss him.'

'I know, Mione. He's being an arse. But you know he's mad about you, right?'

'I know he was. I hope he still is.'

Ginny smiled sadly at Hermione, and they sat in silence for a while. Hermione thought that if she could see Ron, if they could meet up in person and talk, then things could be fixed. It was clear that the writing thing just wasn't working for them, but that didn't mean that they weren't working. She was an optimist at heart, but everyone said it. Herself and Ron were meant to be. They could get through this, it was just a blip. She refused to believe that this was the end for them. They had barely even gotten started. As she had said to George, she refused to give up hope on Ron. She thought back to her last night at The Burrow. Those whispered words in the garden, the way he'd kissed her…what they had was built to last, Hermione was sure of it.

'Do you think I could convince him to come to Hogsmeade? The December weekend is coming up...'

'Maybe.' Ginny couldn't hide her uncertainty. Hermione had to admit that it was unlikely. She was optimistic yes, but not deluded. 'If not, it's nearly Christmas. You'll have plenty of time together then.'

Yes, Christmas. Ron loved Christmas. She knew things would not be as joyous at The Burrow as previous years, but having the family together would surely bring some much needed comfort. Molly had kindly extended her usual invitation to Harry and Hermione, and wouldn't hear of not having them over. Hermione was looking forward to having her best friends with her again. Of course, seeing Ron was what she was most looking forward to. She knew that being there with him would be a comfort. She couldn't wait to be wrapped up in his arms again, even just to hear his voice. She hadn't thought she would miss him as much as she did, but then she hadn't anticipated that she would have so little contact from him. No one made her laugh like he did, no one could soothe her nerves like he did, no one could make her heart flutter like he did. He made her feel so special, and she knew he cared about her. Up until now, that is. Still, she did believe that being together would cure all that. She had to believe that, or what would she have to get her through the rest of this term?

George's response to her letter was oddly short and restrained, and she wondered if something was up. The tone was warm, but it was a very brief letter. Also, though it was such a silly thing to notice, he hadn't signed off 'Love' like she had in her last letter, or even his usual 'Best.' It made his letter seem cold. She hoped that her 'Love' hadn't crossed a line. Most of all though, she hoped he wasn't experiencing a setback. He had come so far, she was so proud of him. To see him go back to the way he'd been before would be awful. It was also possible that in insisting on her boundaries about discussing Ron (which none of the Weasleys seemed to have much concern for) she had unintentionally made things weird between them. However, it was so hard to get anything like that from words on a page. She had to trust that if there was something she needed to know, he would tell her. After the last couple of letters she was especially aware of the importance of giving each other space.

 _Hermione,_

 _Everyone avoids talking about Fred, like they think the very mention of him will break me. Your letter was wonderful. I laughed and I cried reading it. I want everyone to remember Fred like that - to remember how much fun he was, how talented, how caring. I don't want him to only be thought of as dead. I think people believe not mentioning him is best. But I don't want to stop missing him, I don't ever want to forget. So thank you._

 _Take it easy at school. Honour Fred's memory by slacking off a bit._

 _Talk soon,_

 _George_


	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer: Characters and world are JK's. You know the deal!_

 _Apologies for the formatting errors when this was first posted (and thanks to cares 1970 for pointing it out!)_

 _Hope you enjoy it :)_

 **Chapter 14 – George**

George knew his letter to Hermione had been cowardly. It was short, and of course, he had left out the most important thing. A real friend would have told her what was going on. He knew leaving her in the dark about Ron was wrong, but what else could he have done? It wasn't the kind of thing you could just put in a letter.

 _PS I know you're under a lot of pressure, but your boyfriend is cheating on you. Thought you should know!_

As if that was any way to tell her something so heart-breaking. He didn't know what to do. The whole situation was completely unexpected, and impossible to make right. There was so much that had gone wrong.

Ron had been shocked when George had stumbled into his living room, interrupting his snog with his new friend. Ron had paled, staring at George like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He wasn't the only one who couldn't trust his own eyes at this moment. George blinked. No, she was still there, she still wasn't Hermione Granger. Ron and George had just stared at one another, neither of them quite able to believe what was going on. The girl with the black bob had looked between the two of them, trying to work out what was going on. The moment had stretched on, awful and tense. She stood up. Ron stood too, not breaking eye contact with George. The girl hovered, straightening her clothes.

'I'll, um, see you Ron.' She patted his shoulder awkwardly. She looked at George, and seeing the murderous look on his face settled for a quick nod. Then she scurried out of the room as quickly as she could. 'Bye!'

The two brothers stood in place, frozen in some kind of weird tableau. A stand-off before the explosion they both knew was coming. It was one of those moments that stretched on, one of those moments that was clearly pivotal.

'What the actual hell, Ron?'

'George you…you…don't understand. It's not – '

'Not what it looks like? I think it is exactly what it fucking looks like.'

Ron's face was rapidly regaining colour. He transformed from a ghostly pallor to fire engine red at an alarming rate. He was over the shock, the anger was rising now.

'This is none of your business.'

'But surely it's Hermione's business!'

'Hermione?'

'Yeah, your girlfriend. Remember her?'

'Of course I remember her!'

'Well that didn't look a whole lot like her on your knee.'

Ron threw his arms up in the air, letting out an incoherent yell.

'Well that's mature, Ron. About as mature as cheating on your girlfriend.'

'Stop butting in George.' Ron shoved George. 'This is not your life.'

'So I should just stand by and let you treat her like shit?'

'My life. My choices.' He shoved George again. 'Also. My home. Get out.'

'We're not done here, Ron. You have to sort this out.'

'No, you have to get out. Leave now.'

'Fine. I'll leave. You can't fuck up more anyway. So I'll just leave you to it.'

'Do. We can't all be like you Saint George. Or Hermit George would be more accurate.'

'Better than Asshole Ron, huh?'

'I'm done. Seriously. Get gone. Fuck off. Goodbye.'

He was too riled up to apparate, the risk of splinching was far too high. One ear was quite enough missing body parts, thank you very much. Besides, Harry may not have removed the protective barriers around the house. Harry. Did Harry know about this? What kind of a friend was he? This was his house, he must know what was going on. Merlin this was such a mess. How could they do this to Hermione, both of them? Some best friends they were.

'Does Harry –'

'OUT.'

Ron chucked a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace, making the flames flare bright green, then practically manhandled George into the fire. 'THE BURROW' He yelled. George had one last glimpse of his brother's furious face before he spun around and was whisked off home.

He stepped out of the fireplace, and stormed through the kitchen of The Burrow, ignoring Molly's shouts.

'Soot! Soot! Oh George!'

He could hear her muttered cleaning spells as she trailed after him. He kicked off his shoes before stomping up the stairs.

'Oh Merlin, soot on my walls! The state of it! You bloody idiot.'

George slammed the bedroom door behind him. He was short of breath, but full of angry energy. Honestly, he wanted to punch something. He clenched his fists as he paced around the room.

Fucking Ron. How could he? How could he do this to Hermione? What was he thinking, stringing her along like this? She was so good, so caring…she didn't deserve to be treated like this. He just kept pacing back and forth, trying to work out what he could possibly do. How could he fix this? He knew it wasn't his business…but he wanted to protect Hermione. He wanted to protect Ron too. Even though he was furious with Ron, he knew things were badly wrong for him to be acting like this. Something must be seriously wrong for his brother to fuck up this spectacularly. Ron had a history of being an idiot, yes, but he also had a history of being infatuated with Hermione Granger.

There was a tentative knock on the door, and Molly came in. She scanned George's face, trying to work out what was going on. Again he felt a pang of sadness seeing how cautious, how worried she was these days. He could tell she was terrified that the recent improvement in his mood and behaviour were a thing of the past. He knew things would be up and down, good days and bad but he knew she was scared he would have a setback and end up in that dark, dark place again.

'Are you okay, dear?'

He sat down heavily on the bed. The nervous energy remained, he jiggled his knee up and down. After a beat, his mum sat down beside him. She laid a hand on his knee, steadying him.

'What's going on?'

He took a deep breath. 'I went over to Grimmauld Place today.'

'Good for you. That's great George. I'm glad you're getting out more.'

'No. I…' He sighed heavily. He wasn't sure whether to say it or not. He didn't know if he should tell her, but at the same time he couldn't keep this awful news inside him. It was choking him. 'Ron's cheating on Hermione.'

'What?' Molly looked absolutely crestfallen. 'I can't believe that. Ron…no…he wouldn't.'

'Oh, he would. When I arrived, there was another girl with him. They were kissing, rather passionately.'

Molly swore. 'Oh he's so stupid. Hermione is…well, Hermione. She's perfect for him.'

'He's a bloody git, that's what he is.'

'He is. The bloody fool. I didn't raise him to behave like this, to have so little respect for his girlfriend. But we have to be fair, George. Your brother is having a tough time, we all are. And I don't know how well the training is going for him.' She was wringing her hands.

'Mum…that's no excuse.'

'I know. Hermione's your friend. What Ron has done is wrong. Believe me, I am furious with him for doing this. He's making such a mess of things. His behaviour is a disgrace, but I think we have to hear him out.'

George couldn't believe it. Molly was clearly angry, but she wasn't flying off the handle like he had expected she would. And he didn't want to be reasonable, he wanted to rage.

'Mum, it's Hermione. He's completely screwing her over.'

'Yes. He's treating her terribly. You know I care about Hermione. But Ron's my son. He's my priority.'

'But shouldn't we tell Hermione?'

Molly sighed heavily. 'Ron should. He's an adult now. He made this mess, he can deal with the consequences.'

'But he won't tell her. He'll leave her hanging like this. Is she to find out when she's over at Christmas and Ron brings his new woman?'

'Oh he won't bring her over for Christmas.'

'Not the point, Mum.'

'Don't meddle, George.'

'Aren't you angry at him?'

'Of course I am. Moreover, I'm disappointed in him. He's getting a Howler for sure. Harry may get one too, if he knew about this. But we can't fix this George. It's not ours to fix.'

'Ginny's going to flip her shit. If Harry knew about this, well, Voldemort will seem like a piece of cake.'

'George!'

'It's true.'

'I know. She's got some temper. Takes after her mother. Speaking of which, I have a Howler to write.' She squeezed George's shoulder. 'Don't get too involved, George. This isn't your fight.'

When his mum left the room, George flopped back on the bed. He didn't know what to do. This was Ron's mess, sure, but the longer it went on the more hurtful it would be for Hermione. It seemed so wrong for her to be left in the dark about this. She was in Hogwarts, hoping she could fix things with Ron, while he was cheating on her. The thought of himself and his mum (and possibly Harry) knowing and not doing anything…it was awful. Hermione would be so embarrassed. He should tell her. She deserved to know the truth. She deserved to know now, not whenever Ron felt like telling her. Finding out in The Burrow would be so unfair, and it would completely ruin her Christmas. She would be humiliated, and she would be stuck in Ron's home. Things were bad enough as it was, finding out that way would be terrible.

No, George decided, it was up to him to sort this out. She had to know.


	15. Chapter 15

_This chapter was the first scene from WTM that I thought of, and it's the part I've been waiting to get to. I hope you like it._

 _Disclaimer: World and characters are JK Rowling's, of course._

 **Chapter 15 – Hermione**

December. At last. Hermione had never been more ready for the Christmas holidays. The break from the castle and from the pressure she had been feeling here, would do her good. She needed some space to breathe and to think.

It was the December Hogsmeade weekend, and she was feeling hopeful. The village was decorated for the holidays, and had her in a festive mood. It was always a picturesque place, but seeing it strung with fairy lights and festooned with garlands made it seem well…magical. There were crowds of people swaddled in wooly winter wear, chatting and laughing. Hogsmeade felt alive again, it felt happier. Christmas was making her hopeful, her spirits were higher than they had been in a long, long time. Christmas at The Burrow would be warm and loving, and she would be reunited with Ron. The thought of being with him again was the silver lining in all this. She could almost feel his arms around her now, warm and safe.

She was of age now, so she stopped off in The Three Broomsticks for a glass of mulled wine. It was deliciously spicy and warming, and she let herself fully enjoy this day. After everything that had happened, happiness or hope were often tinged with guilt. Every thought had dark undercurrents of loss, of her absent parents, of dread. Now she focused on being present here, on appreciating this moment. She would be okay with the exams. She knew her stuff, she had put in the hours (and hours) of study. Now she was better rested, she knew she was prepared. She was still working hard of course, but she felt more in balance now. Still, the Christmas break was much needed, and she couldn't wait for it. This year she had a lot of responsibilities at school, and it would be good to have headspace.

There was a hill in Hogsmeade with a bench that offered a lovely view over the village, and across to Hogwarts. She loved sitting up here, it was such a calming, quiet place. Harry and Ginny were hanging out today, and she had left them to it. It was good for them to get some couple time. They had of course invited her along, but she was actually pretty content being on her own today. She was feeling peaceful, feeling hopeful. Feeling like this was such a relief.

She spotted someone coming up the hill. No. It couldn't be. A flash of red hair. She felt herself begin to smile. He had come. He'd known where to find her. This was…wow. This really was a good day. She rose from the bench, clasping her gloved hands before her. She felt her cheeks flush pink, and resisted the urge to bounce on the spot. Her excitement was mounting. This was so perfect. Today of all days. How wonderful, how perfect could this be? Then…she noticed it. He was a bit too short to be Ron. His walk wasn't quite the right walk. The red hair was the right shade, yes, he was a Weasley. But not her Weasley. George Weasley was the one walking up the hill towards her. She sank back down onto the bench. She had been foolish to think Ron was coming. Ron wouldn't do that. How perfect? Too perfect. Life wasn't like that.

She looked down at her shoes, trying to get her emotions under control. She refused to cry in front of George just because he was the wrong Weasley. She knew how difficult it was for him to make outings like this, he shouldn't be greeted by someone crying at the mere sight of him. He was standing beside the bench now. She could see his scuffed shoes. He was still standing there, just waiting. She couldn't look up yet. She didn't think she was composed enough. He sat down beside her, and tapped her foot with his own.

'Hey Hermione.'

'Hi George. Good to see you.'

'Well, I don't think you have seen me yet.'

'Sorry.' She glanced up, and the grim look on his face shook her. Her first instinct was fear. Something had happened. Something was wrong. Her chest tightened, familiar dread flooding her.

'Oh no. What's happened. Is…is it Ron? Has he been hurt? Please say he's okay.'

She didn't think she could handle it if Ron had been injured, or worst. If she didn't get a chance to make things okay, to tell him she loved him. Surely life couldn't be any crueller to them than it had already been?

'He is okay.'

'Oh thank Merlin.' She released a breath she hadn't realised she was holding, her hand fluttering to her mouth. George looked pained though. Things weren't okay.

'But I do have some bad news for you.'

She reached for George's hand. Now she knew Ron was okay, she was convinced the bad news would be about George, maybe he was losing control again, maybe he wasn't coming out of his depression as she had hoped he was. To be honest, she was a bit embarrassed that she had jumped to worrying about Ron before even asking George how he was. It had to be the least welcoming greeting ever. Now he looked down at their hands, a confused look on his face. The impulse had surprised her too…but after everything, they were close. This was okay, right? She wanted to offer him some comfort, some kind of anchor as he told her what was going on. She wanted him to know she was there.

George looked at her face, then back down at their hands.

'It's okay, George. I'm here for you.'

He squeezed her hand. 'No, I'm here for you, Hermione. The thing is…' he paused for what seemed like the longest time. The tension stretched and expanded, taking up all the space inside her. 'Ron has been cheating on you.'

She froze. He finally looked up at her, trying to gauge her reaction. She felt a pang of pain, a physical stabbing in her chest. She felt chilled, frozen, like a Dementor was hovering before her and all happiness was being sucked out of her. No. No. This couldn't be right. This couldn't be real.

'No.'

'Hermione, I –'

'No. You're wrong. You have to be wrong.' It was hard to breathe, her voice was a mere whisper. 'This is a mistake.'

George shook his head. 'I wish I was wrong. But I'm not. I'm so sorry.'

'Please.' She was pleading with him now, practically begging him to take back those awful, awful words.

'I'm sorry.'

She stood up, walking unsteadily away from him. She knew things between herself and Ron weren't right. Everyone knew that. She knew things weren't good, or even okay…but not this. Never this. After everything they'd been through, after everything they'd said. No. After so many years of friendship, after such a long time of longing for each other. No. No. No. She couldn't believe it. She wouldn't believe it. She was walking down the hill, her breath coming in gasps now. Could this be some kind of twisted joke? Could George have misunderstood? Ron wouldn't cheat on her. Would he?

George had followed her down the path. He grabbed her arm. 'No, don't touch me. Just don't.'

Her voice broke and she started to sob. George kept his distance, there but not crowding her. However, when she started to sink to the ground, he stepped forward. Grasping her elbows, he brought her back to standing, and guided her back to the bench.

'Come on now, nearly there.' He murmured soft, comforting things to her as he brought her up the hill. Once she was sitting down on the bench, he moved away again, careful to give her some space. He let her cry, he didn't try and shush her. He didn't tell her it was okay. It was absolutely not okay, not one bit okay. When many tears had been shed and she felt a bit spent, she glanced up at him. He offered a tissue which she took gratefully, wiping away some tears. His kind gesture made her cry a bit more, but it was gentler now. A trickle of tears, rather than a torrent.

'I'm such a mess, I'm sorry.'

'You've had some really awful news, of course you're upset.'

'And mad, and embarrassed, and so so sad.'

'I'm sorry.' He lifted an arm 'Can I?'

She nodded, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. It was nice to be held, comforting. If only it was Ron holding her. The thought made her cry again. She was surprised there were so many tears in her to be cried. George held her a little closer, and she let her cheek rest against his chest. He was warm, a comfort in the cold wintery air.

'I can't believe this.' Her voice was small and sad. It didn't sound like hers at all. It was fitting, because she didn't feel like herself at all.

'Me either.'

'I honestly never thought this would happen. I didn't think we'd get married, I didn't think we'd be together forever…I'm not that naïve. But I didn't think it would be like this.'

'I'm sorry, and I'm sorry this is how you found out.'

'Maybe I shouldn't have come back here. I don't think he wanted me to. And if I'd been closer to him then –'

'Hermione.' George's face was so sharp that it startled her. He moved away so he could look at her properly. 'Don't say that. Don't even think it. Of course it was right for you to come back. Education is so important to you, you love learning. Hogwarts is the right place for you to be this year. Ron is an asshole.'

She sniffled. 'An absolute fucking asshole.'

George gaped at her. She couldn't help but smile a bit, in spite of everything. 'What? I can curse too, you know.'

'Well. I certainly know now.'

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold herself together. It felt like her world was coming apart at the seams.

'I was so sure I could make things okay again. I didn't think it was this bad.'

'Maybe you still can.'

'Seriously?' Hermione's withering glare was still formidable, even when it was watery.

'Well, maybe you should hear him out, see what's going on.'

No, she couldn't. The thought of being anywhere near Ron, let alone talking to him, was repulsive. It hurt so much that she hadn't been enough for him, that he didn't love her as much as she loved him. She wouldn't give him the chance to tell her as much in person, to try and weasel out of the bad things he had done. No, he was out. He'd made his choices. She was too mad to talk to him. She wanted to hex him for shattering her heart like this, for acting like he cared and then dropping her. For humiliating her by going behind her back like this. His brother was here doing the dirty work for him, he was a bloody coward. He was a bloody coward, yet she still loved him. For an intelligent girl, she really could be awfully stupid.

Thinking of him was painful, painful and filled with love and hatred, tenderness and hurt. How could he do this? Why would he do this? It was all just too much. It pressed down on her, a physical weight. It was crushing.

'I think it's time for me to go back to the castle, George. Thanks for listening, and for telling me.'

She stood up. He rose too, looking at her with such gentleness that her heart melted a bit.

'Would you like me to walk you back to school?'

'No thanks, I need some alone time before getting back into the chaos there. But thanks for the offer.'

'Sure.'

There was an awkward pause. They hadn't seen each other since they'd started writing. Belatedly they registered this had been the first encounter of their new found friendship, and it had certainly been a dramatic one. Hesitantly, George opened his arms, his uncertainty showing on his face. Hermione hugged him, and his arms wrapped around her. She stayed there for a moment, feeling safe, then stepped back.

'Thanks, for everything.'

'You too.'

She nodded and turned away from him, beginning the walk back to the castle. Back to life, to trying to go on with this stupid smashed-up heart.

'Hey' she turned at the sound of George's voice 'write to me, okay?'

'You too.'

She gave a little wave. Then, she ducked her head and walked on. One foot in front of the other, step by step was the only way she could get through this.


	16. Chapter 16

_Disclaimer: World and characters are JK Rowling's, not mine. Surprise!_

 _This was a tough one, it took aaaaages to write. Hope you like it._

 **Chapter 16 – George**

He sat back down on that damned bench, and watched Hermione make her way back down to the village. The bench should have one of those like inscribed plaques 'Here Hermione Granger had her heart broken. Fuck this bench.' Hermione probably wouldn't approve, but it seemed fitting. He felt bone tired, drained from everything that had just happened. He wasn't sure he had done the right thing. He thought Hermione had a right to know Ron was being unfaithful…but what a way to find out, what a person to find out from. It was better than seeing Ron and that girl in the society pages of the Daily Prophet, but it still was far from ideal. Seeing her crumble like that, it had been awful. He kept seeing her eyes wide with disbelief, her lip trembling, her tear-streaked cheeks. He kept hearing that pleading note in her voice. She was devastated. He was so sure telling her was the right thing, but now she had to go back to school in this state. And had he just made the whole mess worse? It was done now though. She knew, and there was no going back from that. He just wished he didn't have to be the one to tell her.

He sat on that bench for a while. He just needed to be on his own. More and more, home was starting to feel claustrophobic. He knew when he came home his mum would be full of questions about where he had been, and what he had been up to. He knew she cared, and he knew how much worry he had caused her, but it was a lot. He missed having his own space. He missed that apartment he had shared with Fred. They'd had such fun, such freedom there. Of course living there without Fred would be awful. He hadn't signed the lease for another year, and he had no intention of going back there. Bill had collected their things from the apartment, George just hadn't been able to face it. Now though, he was thinking that living away from home could be a good thing. Even with just himself and Percy being home with their parents, it wasn't the same as living away. Ron visited, and Bill and Fleur spent the odd weekend with them. Planning a new move without Fred was sad though. It was weird to not be able to ask his opinions on things. He knew Fred pretty well, it was easy to guess what his thoughts would be…but he missed having someone to bounce ideas off. Moving together had been such fun, moving on his own was a much more daunting task. Also, he really wasn't looking forward to telling his mum. Not only did she like having him home so she could keep an eye on him, but George knew how much she loved their new routine. She was delighted having him help out at her classes, and had become comfortable with this set up. He was reluctant to shake things up for her. Maybe he was just making excuses, stalling…but thinking like this, thinking of the future….it was a new and scary development.

He sat there for a while, lost in thought, his breath coming out in puffs before him in the cool December air. Eventually he decided he really should get home, reluctant though he was to face the fallout of his conversation with Hermione. He knew it would create drama at home. He knew that Ron would be furious, and his mum probably wouldn't be too impressed either. Maybe her policy of non-intervention wouldn't extend to him though. Either way what was done was done, there was no going back on it now. Part of him would undo it if he could, he hated being the one to have hurt Hermione…but she needed to know. Leaving her in ignorance was just plain wrong. He knew that were the roles reversed, he would have wanted to know.

He apparated back to the garden of The Burrow, Molly hated it when he apparated straight into the house, it always frightened her. He hovered outside the house. He was still feeling contemplative, still sad after seeing Hermione in so much pain…he really wasn't in the mood for a fight. However, he knew it was only a matter of time before Ron showed up, shouting and screaming. He may as well get inside and give Molly a heads up before all hell broke loose.

'Hi Mum, I'm home.'

'Kitchen.'

He walked in and she handed him a cup of tea. 'Where were you dear?'

He took a long gulp of tea, prolonging the inevitable truth telling. 'Hogsmeade.'

'Hogsmeade?' Realisation showed on her face. 'Oh George, you didn't?'

'I did.'

'Oh no. Oh the poor girl, is she okay?'

They sat down at the table. 'Well, she's torn up, of course. It was a shock to her. But Mum…she needed to know.'

'Yes, dear. Just maybe not this way.'

George couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice. 'I don't think there's a good way to find out your boyfriend is cheating on you.'

'No, but George…getting involved probably wasn't the best idea.' They drank their tea quietly. Then Molly sighed. 'I suppose we'll have a visit from Ron then?'

'Yeah…I'm sure he will hear about this. He'll probably have a thing or two to say.'

'And to throw.' Molly bustled about the kitchen, hiding her good China. She was familiar with Weasley tempers, and it was some time since they'd had a bust up as bad as this one was likely to be.

'I'm sorry, Mum. I know you don't need this, but I had to do what I thought was right. Hermione's my friend, and I care about her. If I was in her position I would want someone to tell me what was going on. Finding out from a good friend isn't the best way, but it definitely isn't the worst way.'

'I know, love.' His mum came over and hugged him. 'I'm proud of you. I hope you realise what a good heart you have.' He hugged her back. Merlin, it had been an emotional roller-coaster of a day…and it was only going to get more dramatic.

As if on cue, there was a bang, and Ron appeared in the kitchen, purple in the face with rage.

'YOU!'

George gently pushed Molly away, getting her out of the path of the storming bull that was his younger brother. Ron took a swing at him, and George pushed him back.

'How fucking dare you? What gives you the right to go to Hermione, to fill her head with crap about me?'

'How dare I go tell her the truth, you mean? Hermione's a smart girl, she can work out what's crap and what's real.'

Ron ran at him, and they struggled in the kitchen. George was stockier, but he could feel the advantage Ron's Auror training had given him. Moping about at home sadly didn't do much for your muscles.

'How dare you go tell her my private business?' Ron growled.

'Oh sorry' George laughed bitterly 'I should have just stood back, lied to her like everyone else?' He stumbled as Ron pushed him back. 'I should have let you treat her like shit while you screwed around, huh?' Ron slammed him against the wall. Picture frames rattled above his head.

'She's my girlfriend.'

'Not anymore, she should count her lucky stars.' He ducked a punch that would have done serious damage to his nose, and gave Ron a jab to the gut that allowed him get away. This was bad enough, he really wanted to avoid a fist fight with his brother, angry as he was with him. He didn't want the situation to escalate.

'Fuck you.'

'No Ron, fuck you. Couldn't you have at least kept it in your pants until you'd broken up with her? She deserves better than this.'

'I know! Okay, I know I'm not good enough for her. I know I never was. So you can collect your winnings.' Ron hit George in the chest, and George now saw the pain in his brother's expression, not just the fury.

'What?'

'Well come on, I'm sure you knew I could never make this work. I was bound to screw up sooner or later.'

Merlin. George felt a fresh wave of rage. This had not been inevitable. Ron had made a conscious decision to betray Hermione, he had to face the reality of that. He had to deal with the consequences.

'No Ron, I actually thought this would matter enough to you that you'd do everything you could not to fuck up. I thought yourself and Hermione were great together, I thought she was lucky to have a boyfriend like you who clearly cared about her so much, who admire her. I was wrong, clearly.'

Ron's punch came as a surprise this time, George had been too caught up in being as bitter and cutting as he could with his words to see the warning signs. He missed the tell-tale drop of Ron's shoulder, the hint of a shift in his stance. Before he knew it, a fist was flying towards his face. His nose crunched and began spurting blood. Ron gave him the finger and disapparated.

Molly, who'd made herself scarce for their argument, came back into the room when everything had fallen silent. She sighed at the sight of George's face, and sat him down so she could mop up the blood and cast some healing spells.

'It's not too bad, Mum. I've had worse from Bludgers.'

'Yes, but those Bludgers weren't angry family members.'

'No. Plus Quidditch injuries are more heroic.'

'This won't have anyone swooning, that's for sure.'

Later George's anger was tinged with worry about Ron. His brother seemed to be reeling out of control. He was quick to anger, but his behaviour lately had been irrational, reckless even. Clearly there was something going on, something making him act this way. George still believed that Ron loved Hermione. However, the twanging pain in his healing nose and the fresh memory of a sobbing Hermione kept his rage simmering. Regardless of what Ron was going through, his actions were unforgivable. Hermione shouldn't be hurt like this. As far as George was concerned, that was the bottom line.


	17. Chapter 17

_Disclaimer: World and characters are JK Rowling's. She is the Queen._

 _I want some chocolate after writing this. Anyway, much heartbreak! All the best wishes to you, lovely readers._

 **Chapter 17 – Hermione**

Hermione looked at the mass of crumpled tissues surrounding her on the bed, the scattered Honeydukes wrappers. This was pathetic. She was like every dumped girl in every stupid Muggle rom-com ever. Her mum had a soft spot for those movies, they used to watch them together over the summer. She really wished she could speak to her mum now. They had been so close, Hermione had been able to tell her everything. Fiona would know what to say now, she always did. She wouldn't even have to say anything, just put her arm around Hermione, or stroke her hair. They would watch a movie together, eat chocolate and Hermione would know that, even though it didn't feel like it now, things could be okay again and they would be. Every now and then it would hit her how much she missed her mother's quiet understanding, her steadfast support. She wished she could talk through this with someone, could have some advice and support. But no, Fiona was now Monica Jenkins, off in Australia with a new life. She wouldn't even remember her daughter. It was one of the very few times Hermione wished she wasn't quite so good at magic.

Molly Weasley had been a surrogate mother of sorts during Hermione's Hogwarts years, welcoming her to The Burrow, listening to her worries about school, offering advice about the magical world. However, she had never spoken to Molly about her love life, and she could hardly go to the woman to talk about Ron. Molly would be on her son's side, as she should be. Hermione wouldn't have it any other way. She supposed talking to Madame Pomfrey was probably an option, but that didn't feel right. Professor McGonagall was the staff member Hermione felt closest too, but the Headmistress, while kind, was quite stern. Hermione couldn't imagine herself pouring her heart out in McGonagall's office, the portraits of former Heads of the school looking down on her crying and blowing her nose too loudly. It would be shockingly improper and unprofessional. She was Head Girl now, a certain level of decorum was expected. She wouldn't let herself or the position down.

She hadn't told Ginny yet. She would, when the other girl got back from Quidditch practice. There was no hiding the state she was in, there would be no way of pretending things hadn't gone wrong. Still, she wasn't looking forward to Ginny's reaction. She simply didn't have the energy left to cope with the explosion of rage that was sure to ensue. She didn't know if it was even safe to be in the same room as Ginny when she found out. Maybe it would be better to leave her a note, to hide away until her anger had subsided somewhat. She knew it was all because Ginny cared, because she wanted Hermione to be treated well, but Hermione needed quiet now. She just wanted to feel sad for a while.

Before hiding out in her bed she had written Ron a quick note. She had realised on the walk back that they hadn't even broken up, not really. She only knew he had cheated. He most likely still thought that she was in the dark about the whole thing, still devoted to him. Well, not anymore. She wouldn't be made a fool of. If this was how Ron treated her, then she wanted nothing more to do with him. It was over. As she wrote the letter, she was saddened by how easily the words came to her. A part of her must have known that this moment was coming. For all her optimism, it seemed she hadn't been oblivious to the relationship crumbling around her. Well, now it was in ruins. She couldn't deny it anymore.

 _Ron,_

 _I know what you've done. I can't explain how hurt I was…I thought you loved me, I thought you felt the same way I was. I've never liked being wrong, but I've never disliked it more than I do today. Clearly we're already over for you, but consider this the official confirmation of the fact. There is no more Ron & Hermione, no more us. We are through. _

_Goodbye,_

 _Hermione_

Then she had drawn the curtains around her bed, creating her own little haven. The shop assistant in the Honeydukes shop had taken one look at Hermione's face, stuffed a bag full of chocolate and handed it to her.

'On the house, Hermione.'

When Hermione had protested the girl raised a hand. 'You've supported the shop plenty over the years, and I know when someone really needs some chocolate, okay?'

The unexpected kindness had made Hermione tear up again, and she had to make a hasty exit from the shop. Now she was even more glad of the chocolate as she snuggled up under her duvet and allowed herself to wallow. She missed him so much. She hadn't thought the pain would be this…painful. Yes, he had been half-gone already, but the thought of being with him again over Christmas had been such a source of hope and comfort for her. The thought of walks under the stars, cuddling up by the fire, his warm lips on hers…all gone now. Oh no, Christmas. She couldn't possibly go to The Burrow for the break. She couldn't spend two weeks in his company, couldn't eat at the same table with him, couldn't even look at him. No. It was impossible. She realised then that it wasn't just Ron she had lost, she had also lost her second family. Sure, Ginny would still be her friend, George probably too, but those lovely times at The Burrow, that sense of belonging…it was all gone now. Even her friendship with Harry would be altered. She wondered if Harry had been complicit in all this. She wasn't sure she wanted to know. She struggled from her duvet cocoon. She had to write to George immediately. She had to get out of the Christmas plans. Also, she had to thank him. Awful and painful as this heartbreak was, at least he had been brave enough to tell her. He had given her the power to end things with Ron, to not be the victim in this situation.

 _Dear George,_

 _Thank you for coming out here to tell me about Ron. I know it's a big deal for you to make trips like that, and it means a lot that you did. Also, I am glad I found out from someone who cares, rather than hearing it as a piece of gossip which, of course, I would have refuted over and over, until being proven wrong. Thank you for sparing me that humiliation. It means a lot that you respect me enough to be honest with me, and that you were willing to have that difficult conversation. Ron is your brother, after all, you are in a very awkward position with this whole situation._

 _I apologise for getting angry with you, it was unfair of me. After all, you were the messanger, not the cheating asshole._

 _Please tell your mother that I will not be coming to The Burrow this Christmas, although of course I am grateful for the kind invitation. She has always shown me so much warmth and kindness, please tell her how much I have appreciated that._

 _Thanks for everything, and I hope you are taking care of yourself._

 _Hermione_

She had written the letter, but then found the trek to the tower to get a school owl was simply beyond her. It was too far. She couldn't walk through the school like this, she was a wreck. Then, thankfully, Parvati came into the dorm. She looked surprised to see Hermione there, even more surprised to see the state she was in.

'Oh my goodness, Hermione. Are you okay?'

'Ron…' Her voice wavered. 'It's over.'

Parvati hugged her. 'I'm so sorry. I always thought he was a bastard after what he did to Lavender.'

Hermione whimpered a bit. She didn't want to think about Ron and Lavender. That would only make this worse.

'Is there anything I can do for you?'

Hermione wiped away some tears with her sleeve. 'Yes, actually. If you could send this to the Weasleys.'

Parvati raised an eyebrow. Hermione realised this may need some context.

'I was meant to spend Christmas there. It's just not an option anymore.'

Parvati steered Hermione back to bed, then took the letter. 'I'll send it right away. And sweetie? Things will get better.' She tucked Hermione into bed, like she was a child, then headed out of the dorm. Hermione felt heavy with sadness. About Ron, but also about the Christmas break. Now her options were the castle, which seemed unbearable, or her empty family home, which would be lonely and grim. But there was no way she could go back to The Burrow.

The door slammed open. Ginny's blazing expression spoke a thousand words. She must have run into Parvati. Ron may not survive this. Hermione sat up, looking at Ginny warily. The storm was coming.

'I am going to kill him Hermione. He is going to regret the day he was born. That stupid arse. I don't know what happened. But I know it's his fault. I mean, look at you, you're a mess!'

'Thanks, Gin.'

But Ginny was on a roll. She was pacing around the room, jabbing with her wand as she shouted. Hermione reached for her own wand, ready to put out any fires Ginny might ignite.

'You're a mess! He's broken your heart! He's a bloody fool, you know? He was so fucking lucky to get with you, and now he's messed it up. I can't believe this!'

'He cheated on me.'

Her words didn't seem to register, Ginny's rant was in full flow. 'He loves you. He does. He's an insensitive fool, a selfish idiot, a –' Ginny froze, Hermione's statement catching up with her. 'He WHAT?! Oh, that's it!'

She stormed from the room, and Hermione flopped back down onto her pillows. She didn't envy Ron right now, but then he wasn't the one crying his eyes out. Everything was just so wrong. This wasn't how it was meant to be.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: Characters & world are JK Rowling's.

Hope you enjoy, thanks for the support.

 **Chapter 18 – George**

George tossed Hermione's letter across the table. This was ridiculous. Of course, her decision made perfect sense. It was, she always thought things through. She was Hermione Granger, after all. He wouldn't be surprised if she had made a list of pros and cons for this decision. But then again, it was hardy a choice, was it? Not coming for Christmas had probably been a foregone conclusion. He shook his head. He hadn't even thought that she wouldn't come. It seemed stupid now. Who would want to spend Christmas with their ex-boyfriend and his family? Happy bloody holidays, indeed.

But Christmas without Hermione…it was hard to imagine. Harry and Hermione were practically honorary Weasleys by now. They had spent so many Christmases in The Burrow. Hermione thrashing them all at the Christmas quiz was as much a tradition as anything else, much to Percy's irritation. Those two had been banned from being on the same team, the combined brainpower was just too much for anyone else to compete with. It also meant any quiz or trivia-based game went on and on as they argued over answers, or over other aspects of the topic that didn't even have anything to do with the question at hand. Their bickering stopped being funny very quickly but it was a holiday tradition now, like Weasley jumpers or mum's mince pies.

George had been looking forward to spending time with Hermione this year. He felt he really knew her now, and they got on much better than he had expected. He had been looking forward to the company. Even having more of the Weasleys home would be a good thing, it would liven up The Burrow a bit. Charlie always had entertaining stories from his work with dragons in Romania, and no doubt he would also have a few more burns that their mother would be horrified by. Fleur was a much more welcome guest these days, the conflict between herself and Molly Weasley was mostly a thing of the past. Ginny still wasn't Fleur's biggest fan, but it was clear that Bill and Fleur were very happy together so she kept the peace. Ginny would have Harry to keep her occupied over the break anyway. George didn't expect they would see much of that pair over the holidays. George worried about Ginny, he reckoned that she probably wasn't getting on as well as she was letting on. She felt things intensely, she loved and hated and cried fiercely. He imagined she had been putting on a brave face about Fred, about the battle and her time at Hogwarts last year. He was glad she had Hermione with her at school, but he hoped Harry was there for her too. He hoped Harry could be there, he had his own battle scars to deal with. Everything was more complicated now, they were all wounded, all struggling.

He wouldn't mind Hermione not having a Weasley Christmas if he thought she had somewhere else to go. He knew she wouldn't want to stay at the castle. A younger Hermione would have loved this – the castle all quiet, the library to herself…what could be more perfect for studying? But this Hermione was haunted by the castle, she had admitted as much in her letters. He couldn't see her wanting to stay there when it was nearly deserted. Usually, Hermione spent some of the Christmas break with her parents – skiing, having Christmas parties, visiting their few relatives – but he knew her parents were still…away. It wasn't something she talked about much, and he had the sense she didn't want to be pressed on it. He respected that. Yes, they wrote to each other pretty candidly, but they were still both entitled to their secrets, their boundaries. She admitted it, but George reckoned Hermione would be spending Christmas alone in her parents' house. She had only mentioned a few relatives before, and they weren't close. Maybe she could see them, but then she would have to explain her parents' absence. He didn't think she had anywhere else to go. The thought of her spending Christmas all on her own was very sad, especially after such a year. Now was a time when they all needed to band together and support one another.

This would be a difficult Christmas. The thought of Christmas without Fred was awful. It just wouldn't be the same. Fred always had pranks planned out, Fred always made them all laugh, Fred was…well, Fred. Everything was darker without him. Having Harry and Hermione and even Fleur there would be a support, a help. They would be a bit of a distraction, they would be a comfort. And Hermione should be there. Over the last few months he had really realised the importance of having people around you. People who cared and could support you.

George knew he had to reach out to Hermione now. Ron would still be part of her life. If she wanted to remain friends with Ginny and Harry, some level of contact with her ex-boyfriend was inevitable. She couldn't lose Ginny and Harry too, he knew she would be lost without them. The pain of breaking up with Ron was obviously very fresh, but facing him now would be getting it out of the way. George was aware this was a bit callous…but being surrounded by people who cared for her would be a better Christmas than the alternative, surely? He tried writing this down, but it sounded harsh. He didn't want to sound like he was telling her to snap out of it. His motivations were somewhat selfish, but he did really believe that being with people who cared for her – him, Ginny, Harry, Molly – was the best thing for Hermione. Christmas was a time for love and togetherness. Fred had always teased him about his sentimentality around the holidays, but George didn't care. He loved having everyone gathered together. He even loved the cheesy carols. Despite everything that had happened during the year, the thought of Christmas still held a certain warmth and charm for him.

With permission from Professor McGonagall to make a visit to the school, George asked Hermione to meet him out by the lake. She had said she liked coming out here to think. He reckoned it was a private spot where they could have a proper chat. He sat on the rock, waiting for her. She was right, it was quite peaceful out here. Hermione strode across the lawn, looking grim. Maybe this wouldn't be as easy as he had thought.

'Hey Hermione.'

He stood up to greet her, but she stopped a while away from him.

'Hi George.'

She looked tired, worn out, such a contrast to the last time he had seen her. He figured he'd better get straight to the point, she didn't seem to be in the mood for chit chat.

'Look, you know why I'm here. I think you should come to The Burrow for Christmas.'

She laughed, bitterly. 'Sure, I can cuddle under the mistletoe with Ron. It'll be lovely seeing him all the time. Maybe he'll bring my replacement too. Should I get her a present?'

He recoiled a bit. He wasn't expecting such harshness from her. But really, who could blame her? He'd be mad too. 'Come on, Hermione. She won't be there.'

'Okay. Neither will I.' She walked as she spoke, perilously close to the edge of the lake. He really didn't fancy diving in there after her, but he knew suggesting a step back would be foolhardy right now. He didn't want to test her. He could well end up pushed into the lake.

'But you love Weasley Christmases.'

'You can't honestly be this naïve, George. It's not about whether or not I like being at The Burrow. Ron broke my heart. He stomped on it. He threw it away. Do you really think I want to give him the chance to do that in person? Do you think I want to let him see how much he's hurt me?'

'I know –'

'You don't. You wouldn't ask this if you did.'

'Hear me out.'

She sighed. Something in his expression spoke to her though, and she gave a small nod. She stopped striding, stood before him with her arms crossed. She looked at their shoes, but she was there and listening.

'I think you should come.' She opened her mouth and he held up a hand. 'You said you'd listen. Okay, I think at Christmas you should be surrounded by people who care about you. I care, so do Harry and Ginny, so do my family. There will be a lot of other people there, not just Ron. And we would miss you if you weren't there. You haven't seen Harry in a while. Percy needs someone who can actually challenge him at quizzes, we're not smart enough. Mum loves chatting with you and how you always help her out. It would be nice. Obviously this will be a tough Christmas without Fred, but I think being together is the best thing. And I hate the thought of you alone over the holidays, without your family or your friends.'

She looked up at him, and she was teary eyed. 'Thanks. That means a lot. But I just don't know if I can do it.'

'That's okay. Please just think about it. Know that we want you there, and we would look after you.'

She nodded, clearly trying to get her emotions under control. George suggested a walk around the grounds. He had made his case, there was no need to nag her. He just wanted to keep her company for now, to be there. She was agitated, twisting her hands as she walked, and it was clear from her face that her mind was whirring at a mile-a-minute.

'Here.' George offered her some gum. 'It's a Weasley Wizard's Wheezes creation. Good for the stress.'

Hermione looked sceptical.

'Oh come on. You can't honestly think I'd pull a prank on you now. I must have earned at least a bit of trust.'

'Okay.'

She chewed the gum, and he noticed the difference in her. Her brow uncreased, her shoulders lowered, and the severe line of her mouth softened. 'Wow, this is good stuff. I've never seen it before?'

'Yeah it wasn't a product that made it into the shop.'

Hermione spat the gum out into her hand. 'What? You're giving me a test product?'

'You have serious trust issues, Hermione.'

'Well my boyfriend did cheat on me, George.'

'Fair. Sorry. The Calming Chews work, but we had a few concerns about people getting hooked on them, or if the professors would think it was a way of cheating.'

'I see.' She still put the gum into a tissue.

'It's just a calming elixir, and then we've just some calming herbs too – like chamomile. I use them myself occasionally, like when I feel panic setting in. They're safe I promise.'

She squeezed his arm. 'I know. It's good to see a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes product again, and it did calm me down.'

'Does what it says on the tin.' He winked. 'That was part of the problem really, this product didn't have any havoc-wrecking potential.'

This gained a glimmer of a smirk from Hermione. George felt oddly proud of himself.

They were back at the doors of the castle. 'Please do consider what I said, Hermione. Christmas wouldn't be the same without you. And I hate the thought of you spending the holidays alone.'

'Thanks for coming out here, George. I'll think about it. Just, it's difficult.'

She hugged him quickly, then she was on her way back into the castle. He watched her go, hoping she would be okay.


	19. Chapter 19

_Trying to get back onto the chapter-a-day schedule. Tomorrow - I'll be bringing the drama._

 _Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the characters and world. I own only these words._

 **Chapter 19 – Hermione**

Hermione was surprised to find herself giving George's idea some serious consideration. As she witnessed other students' excitement for the holidays, heard about her friends' plans, the thought of going home on her own became grimmer and grimmer. Neville had kindly offered to have her stay at his grandmother's, but Hermione felt she would be in the way. Neville's grandmother was very stern and liked her routines to be strictly adhered to. Neville was bravely bringing his new girlfriend Hannah Abbott to meet his grandmother, Hermione reckoned that would be enough change and excitement for one Christmas. Still, she had really appreciated the thought. She was so happy for Hannah and Neville. Hannah told her the two of them had started hanging out over the summer, and after a while Neville had asked her to be his girlfriend. She had secretly liked him for a long time, and was absolutely chuffed. Their friendship, and then their relationship, had been a huge support to her following the loss of her mother. Neville was her rock. The difference in Neville over the past couple of years really was incredible. Hermione reckoned Dumbledore's Army had given him a real confidence boost, but also his success in Herbology. He was extraordinarily talented, and Professor Sprout had really encouraged him to pursue this interest. He was planning to research the magical properties of plants after graduating. Hermione was good at Herbology because she worked hard at it, but Neville had such a natural ability with plants. Also, he was so well read on nature and Herbology that he completely put Hermione to shame. She had been spending a lot more time with him this year, and had really got to know him. What a change from the timid first year he'd been. Now he was calmer and more settled, not only had his skills come to the fore, but also his humour. However, what she admired most about Neville was his kindness. She knew his first year had been even more difficult than hers, and he was very welcoming and encouraging to younger students. While she didn't take up his offer, she had agreed to meet Neville and Hannah over the Christmas. If nothing else, it would give them a break from his grandmother, who Neville feared would take a dislike to Hannah. She was looking forward to meeting up with them, but that was one afternoon in a long break.

In the end, she decided to make a pros and cons list. It was the most efficient way to sort this out, otherwise she would just be fretting indefinitely, she would still be sat in the library come Christmas day, trying to make up her mind. Making lists helped her focus her mind and see things more clearly. She liked decisions that were logical and backed up by evidence. She sighed when she looked at her completed list. There were more pros. But the cons - Ron, the embarrassment, the pity - were big ones. It could be an incredibly awkward Christmas. She knew the Weasleys were all aware of how herself and Ron had broken up. She didn't want them feeling sorry for her. She didn't want to be angry at them for knowing and not telling her. Her being there might result in people taking sides. This Christmas would be difficult enough for them as it was. They didn't need extra conflict. But at the same time...Christmas with the Weasleys was familiar, comforting. She usually spent the first week of the holidays with her own family, then decamped to The Burrow. Molly Weasley prepared mounds of food over the holidays, Hermione could only imagine how fantastic her Christmas dinner would be. Her stomach rumbled a bit just thinking about it. The Burrow was cosy and welcoming, it was a hug of a house. Her own home would be cold and empty now. She might actually go mad there on her own. She couldn't believe she was doing this, but the list didn't lie. She would be spending Christmas at The Burrow...with her ex-boyfriend. Great.

Ginny squealed with delight when Hermione told her she would be joining them for Christmas. She jumped on her, squeezing her into the tightest of hugs. Understandably, she was a bit confused. Hermione had been adamant about avoiding Ron, and it wasn't like Hermione to change her mind even a little bit, never mind to completely reverse a decision like this.

'I swear, if there is mistletoe in your house, Gin, I will hex someone.'

'Don't worry. Myself and Harry would be willing to jump under any sprig of mistletoe in your place. We're selfless like that.'

'A pair of modern day martyrs.'

'Seriously, though. We'll have your back. I'm not saying it will be easy, because it won't, for many reasons. But it will be okay. I'm glad you're doing this.'

'I'm not so sure.'

'I know. But it's a brave thing to do, and you need people, Hermione. Being alone isn't good now, for any of us.'

Ginny rarely let any vulnerability show through, so Hermione was touched by this show of solidarity. She knew Ginny would take care of her, and do her best to ensure that she had the happiest Christmas she could, given the circumstances.

She wrote to George, who was also thrilled that she had changed her mind. She wished she had their enthusiasm about the whole thing. She was relieved not to be spending the break all on her own, she knew it would be harder to keep dark thoughts at bay without company or distraction. Being home without her parents would have been awfully sad. But she was dreading seeing Ron, and nervous about what the atmosphere would be like. She didn't think it would be as cosy and joyful as Ginny and George would have her believe.

A couple of weeks later, herself and Ginny were on the Hogwarts Express. All coursework and exams had been successfully completed, and they were free from school. They should be relaxing now, but Hermione was perched on the edge of her seat, as though she were about to bolt. If she weren't travelling with Ginny, Hermione knew she would definitely have bailed on this plan. She didn't fancy her chances of getting away from Ginny though. No-one would.

She groaned 'Remind me why I'm doing this again, Gin?'

Ginny kicked her shin. This girl definitely had issues with violence. 'Stop that. Because we're going to have a fun Christmas. Because you'll get to hang out with me, Harry and George. Because it beats moping about the castle or your house. Because my mum's food is so bloody amazing. Because-'

'Okay, okay.'

'Snap out of it, Granger. Where's that fighting spirit?!'

Hermione gave her a scathing look, and Ginny mimed zipping her lips. The pain had dulled somewhat, it had been three weeks since that meeting with George, but she was far from over Ron. The thought of being near him, but not touching him. Looking at him, and not seeing love or even like in his eyes. Watching his lips, and knowing he was kissing someone else with them. It was a lot to handle. She didn't even know if they would be talking. She was a bit unsure about seeing Harry too. He had told Ginny that he'd suspected Ron was seeing someone, but he hadn't been sure and didn't want to say anything until he was certain. Ginny had heard him out, and forgiven him. Hermione decided to do the same. Fighting with one best friend was bad enough. Apparently the Howler Ginny had sent Ron had been scathing, and she'd worked out a way to send her Bat Bogey Hex in the letter. This had pleased Hermione greatly. She wasn't really sure where Harry stood, he was a bit caught in the middle here. It was all so complicated, and she was exhausted just thinking about it. She tried to focus on spending time with Ginny and George, and reminding herself that getting this out of the way was for the best. She couldn't possibly hope to avoid Ron forever.

They reached King's Cross and Hermione forced herself to get up from the seat and forced herself to put one foot in front of the other, to drag herself off the train. If she didn't, Ginny certainly would. She really hoped that Ron wasn't waiting on the platform. Surely even he couldn't be that tactless? Yes, she would have to see him, and see him a lot over the next couple of weeks…but she didn't want the encounter to be quite so public, or quite so soon. Ideally she would put it off as long as possible.

'Stop dragging your heels, Hermione. He won't be here. It'll probably just be mum.'

The platform was packed with students and their families, it took them a few minutes to spot a frantically waving Molly Weasley, who was wearing a multi-coloured bobble hat. Harry was standing beside her, less colourfully attired. Ginny tore off down the platform towards him. Hermione couldn't help but smile. Harry looked a bit startled as a squealing Ginny launched herself at him. He caught her, staggering backwards. Molly Weasley huffed and rolled her eyes at all the commotion. People were staring, of course.

Hermione crossed the platform more slowly with their luggage trolley. Molly gave her a big hug. Her embrace was every bit as comforting as Hermione remembered.

'George wanted to come greet you too, dear, but I wanted to keep the group nice and small. You are very welcome, and I am glad you decided to come.'

It meant a lot that George wanted to come, but this was definitely for the best. Still, she could imagine he wasn't best impressed at being left at home. She was looking forward to seeing him, but didn't want a big fuss made.

'Thank you for having me, Molly.'

'Anytime, love.' She looked at Harry and Ginny, who were still attached at the mouth. 'Oh Merlin, the pair of them.'

Hermione couldn't believe they were so comfortable snogging in public. Hermione just always found public displays of affection awkward and embarrassing. Ron and Lavender had always been all over each other, they had all but shagged in the Common Room. Hermione and Ron hadn't been like that. At the time, she thought he was respecting her wishes to be more private…now she thought maybe he just wasn't all that into her. Apart from all the attention Harry and Ginny were drawing, there were probably reporters about. They never let Harry be. There were constant photos and articles about him. Hermione didn't know how he could stand it. One of the greatest advantages of being back at Hogwarts was the privacy it gave her. She could just imagine tomorrow's gossip pages: 'Platform Passion: Harry Potter has a lusty reunion with his sweetheart, Ginny Weasley. Hermione wasn't greeted on arrival, there was no sign of her Weasley. Has the Golden Couple lost its shine?' Oh it certainly had. More like Gold Dust now, she thought bitterly.

Molly Weasley cuffed the back of Harry's head as she would one of her own sons. The smack caused Harry and Ginny's foreheads to collide with a crack, putting a stop to their passionate display.

'Ow'

'Mum!'

'Calm yourselves, you're in public. You're making a show of us all. Come on now.'

Molly commandeered the trolley and a chastened Harry and Ginny followed her. Harry's hair was messier than ever, and Ginny's lipstick was smudged. Hermione snorted at their shamefaced expressions.

'Oh shut up, Granger.'


	20. Chapter 20

_Hello lovely readers. This chapter is late because I accidentally deleted the first version and had to rewrite it all. Fun. So here is Chapter 20 Version 2.0._

 _Also I said I would bring the drama...I wound up bringing the cheese instead. But the drama, oh it is coming..._

 _Disclaimer: You know by now that I am not JK Rowling (sob) and own neither the characters nor the world of this story (double sob)_

 **Chapter 20 – George**

George answered the door to a disheveled-looking Harry and Ginny, an irritated Molly and an anxious Hermione. It wasn't exactly what he was expecting. His Christmas jumper now seemed a bit too jovial for the occasion. He hovered, unsure of what to say.

'Oh for goodness sake George, don't just stand there in the way.' His mum bustled past him, tutting and muttering under her breath.

He raised his eyebrows at the others, who refused to comment, just trooped into the house. The tension was palpable. Right. This was a cheery start to the holidays. Hermione carefully lowered the trunks she had been levitating behind her. The three began to unwrap their scarves and unzip their coats.

'Hey, you haven't decorated yet.'

Well, decorating on your own wasn't much fun. Besides, he wasn't one to depart from tradition when it came to Christmas.

'I wanted to wait for you, you're the best at it.'

Ginny was a very enthusiastic decorator. The place would be colourful and noisy when she was through with it, an explosion of festivity, but George couldn't imagine anything that would suit The Burrow better. Besides, Ginny took such joy in it. They would have fun Christmas-ing the place together. She shared his love of the holidays and carols, and his lack of any singing talent. It would be off-key, but heartfelt. Ginny hugged him tightly, and he realised how very glad he was to have her back. She was the most like himself and Fred in the family, she had that same mischievous nature, and they'd passed on some of their recklessness to her too. She reminded him of Fred, but in the best way. As he had written to Hermione, he wanted to be reminded of Fred. He wanted to keep making jokes, to keep telling stories about Fred.

Ginny clapped her hands excitedly. 'Oh this will be great. We can all make paper chains later!'

George could tell from Harry's expression that this wasn't how he had thought he would be spending his night. The shift in his expression had been slight, but Hermione had noticed it too and herself and George couldn't help but snigger. Obviously paper chains wasn't what he had been planning on making with his girlfriend…

'Oh, shut up.'

Ginny looked confused, and Harry gave them a warning glare. Hermione created a diversion by suggesting they leave their stuff upstairs. With a swish and flick of her wand their trunks were airborne once more. Hermione would be staying with Ginny, and Harry and Ron would be in Ron's old room. Hermione was back downstairs in a few minutes, biting back a smile.

'I wouldn't expect Harry and Ginny down anytime soon.'

'What? Oh…' George scrunched up his face. 'Thanks Hermione.'

'Come off it. You would have worked it out yourself. They put on quite a show at King's Cross. Your mum was not impressed.'

'Oh Merlin. So they were shoving their tongues down each other's throats, and yourself and mum were just standing there, making small talk.'

'Precisely. She smacked Harry's head and gave out to them.'

'Great!'

'Huh?'

'That's such a mum thing to do. I like seeing her old scary ways back, you know?'

Hermione grinned. They hovered at the foot of the staircase. It was awkward and tense, and he could tell Hermione was nervous to be here. You would think after all the letters they had written, all the words that had passed between them, he would have something to say to her. But no. His mind was blank. Then he thought of it. TEA!

'Fancy a cup of tea, Hermione?'

She followed him into the kitchen, and he told her to take a seat as he busied himself making the tea and putting out some nice biscuits. It was great to have guests and get to eat the good stuff. He put Hermione's cup of tea before her – a good drop of milk, no sugar. He took his own tea strong and black.

She took a sip of her tea. 'Perfect. Thanks, George.'

They sat at the kitchen table, supping tea and munching on biscuits. The silence was companionable now, not awkward at all. It was nice to just be like this, not to have to entertain or act. George had always felt the pressure to be funny, to perform. Fred was hilarious, it could be hard to keep up with him, to be his equal and to keep up the double act. And in a family as busy as this one, you were loud or you were forgotten. Sitting quietly like this with someone was very comforting. He was quieter than most people realised, more of an introvert. Hermione knew him well, she'd seen some of the darkest parts of him in his letters. He didn't need to try to impress her or put on a persona, he could just be himself. In this oddly contemplative moment, he saw what a gift that was. Quiet moments like this, little pockets of peace, were a rarity in The Burrow, it honestly felt like himself and Hermione were completely on their own here. He was savouring the moment, the place would be mad when the family arrived over the weekend. Hermione, meanwhile, was savouring a biscuit, licking off the chocolate. Some of it was left on her lips. It was rare to see a messy moment from the girl who was pretty much Little Miss Perfect, and he couldn't help but grin.

'What?'

'You have a little something. Here. And here. Oh, here too.' He pointed at his own mouth, ignoring the weird impulse to touch her lips. Her mouth was neat, she had those bow-shaped lips. This was an odd thing to notice. He stopped himself looking at Hermione Granger's mouth. Honestly.

'He's not here by the way. Ron. He may be over after work, I'm not sure.'

'But Harry –'

'Took a half day. Couldn't keep himself from Ginny.'

'It's mutual, she pretty much jumped on him at King's Cross.'

'No wonder mum's in a huff.'

Hermione looked down at her tea for a moment or two, then looked up at him. Her brown eyes were bright and warm. He told himself to snap out of it. Why was he suddenly so interested in her features? They were the same eyes she'd always had. As far as he knew anyway.

'Seriously though, George…how are you doing? I know you hate that question, it's stupid but-'

'Hey no, it's okay. I know you care. I'm…okay.'

It was strange how uncomfortable he was talking about this. He had poured his heart out to her in the letters, divulged his dark thoughts and his pain. The words had come easily, now they were stuck in his throat. He couldn't even look at her. He wondered if she would agree to conduct this part of the conversation on paper. No, he should be able to talk about this. If she could be brave enough to come here and face Ron, he could be brave enough to answer her question properly.

'I am okay. I feel like I should be more upset than I am. I think though that maybe it will hit when everyone gets here. Everyone but him. When we start the Christmas traditions, and he isn't there. You know?'

'Yeah.' She didn't say more. There weren't really words for this. Being there meant more than words though. The silence lingered, and when it was clear George wasn't ready to say more, she changed the subject.

'I love your Christmas jumper, by the way. Very festive.'

He stretched, showing off his blue jumper with the snowman on. 'Cheers. I made it myself.'

'Wow, George, that's amazing!'

His deadpan look said it all. Then they both started laughing. He used to laugh all the time, now he realised how much he missed it. Laughing with someone was such a wonderful thing.

'You know, I reckon the only reason they haven't kicked me out of the knitting club is that I'm a man.'

'That's very sexist.'

'Also, I make lots of tea for them.'

'Ah well, I can't argue with that. Speaking of which…' she held her cup towards him with a pleading look, and he got her some more tea.

A bit later, Ginny and Harry arrived back downstairs. Harry was red in the face, and he looked very nervous, eyes darting around the kitchen. Ginny looked totally composed.

'Hey, Harry.' The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the saviour of the wizarding world, actually jumped at George's voice. George grinned, relishing this moment of power. Harry looked terrified, like he was expecting a Weasley brother to attack him at any minute. 'Your jumper is inside out.'

Harry went a shade of red that rivalled even Ron's blushing. He looked down at his jumper, and swore. His jumper was fine, it was on perfectly. George laughed out loud, startling them all. Hermione and Ginny joined in, and Harry managed a smile. He was sad Fred wasn't here to mercilessly tease Harry with him, but for now he decided to let Potter off the hook. It was Christmastime after all, the season of goodwill.

'So I was thinking we could go down to Mum's knitting class later, she's throwing a little Christmas party for them.'

'That would be lovely,' Hermione beamed at him. George couldn't help but smile back. 'It's great that you've been helping her out.'

Molly was delighted to have the extra hands to help out at the party. 'It's such a pain having to do things the Muggle way,' she grumbled, a familiar refrain to George's ears.

The ladies were delighted to meet them, but George remained their favourite. Naturally. Mabel had saved him a seat right beside her, much to Hermione and Ginny's amusement. George wanted to give them the finger, but he had to be on his best behaviour here. He actually really enjoyed the knitting group, even though he had made no improvement and he dropped more stitches than he knitted. Still he tried, he made tea, and he chatted. They were a kind, welcoming group and they doted on him.

'Never thought you'd be a toy boy, George.' Ginny whispered, still giggling.

'Shut up, or I'll tell Mum just how long yourself and the Chosen One disappeared for today.'

'Arsehole,' she hissed, wary of their mum's reaction to the word.

'Love you too, sis.'

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. Mature.

'Oh George, I need more tea!'

'Coming Mabel!'

Hermione could knit, and the women welcomed her to the circle. Harry and Ginny hovered on the fringes, mainly bringing tea and biscuits over. Mabel, however, refused to be served by anyone but George. Ginny tried to argue with her, but it was pointless.

'George is quite the member of our little crew now,' Pam told Hermione 'we're hoping he'll learn stocking stitch soon. He's not a natural but he does try, bless him.'

George made a crying face at Hermione, as though Pam's comments about his knitting skills (or lack thereof) were heartbreaking. Hermione laughed, and he realised how much he loved the sound. And the way she smiled. Merlin, the Christmas sentimentality must be really getting to him.

'Oh yes, he's popular here' Mabel winked at George 'There's nothing hotter than a man with a pair of needles, is there Hermione?'

Hermione had been taking a sip of her tea, and she spluttered a bit. She was flustered. Odd. 'Um. It's a good skill to have.'

'You know what else is a good skill?'

Molly came over. 'Leave the poor girl alone, Mabel. If you paid half as much attention to your knitting as you did to gossiping…'

The ladies all hugged Molly and George at the end of the lesson, wishing them a happy Christmas. George had to promise to come back in the New Year, they claimed that they would make a knitter out of him yet. Mabel whispered to him about Hermione, and George hushed her. That woman was a menace.

Once again he found himself wondering at the bizarre chain of events that had led him here. Fred would be hysterical at even the thought of George at a Stitch and Bitch session, but he had to admit he enjoyed it. He was absolutely rubbish at knitting, but it was calming and he enjoyed the company. It was good to be getting back into a routine too, and out of the house. He felt ancient when he thought that way, but he couldn't deny that he had been a recluse for months. Most of all, he enjoyed how happy it made his mum that he had taken an interest, and that he wasn't just sitting around at home.

They carried Molly's supplies back to The Burrow. After a delicious dinner, Ginny told them it was decoration making time. She had her 'don't argue with me' face on, and soon had a production line going. Sitting around the fire, chatting and joking, George was surprised by how comfortable he felt. This was easy, cosy and safe. Hermione's knee pressed gently against his leg, and she was smiling as she worked, listening to Harry and Ginny tease each other. Ginny was making elaborate snowflake decorations, she had trusted them with only the simplest task. Still, there was something relaxing about it. Like knitting, keeping your hands busy.

'This is nice.' Hermione whispered to George. Harry and Ginny were completely caught up in their own conversation, flirting shamelessly.

He bumped her shoulder with his, in a friendly way. 'Yeah, it is. I'm glad you came.'

She smiled at him, a warm and genuine smile that soothed his worries about whether he'd been right to push her to come here, whether he had been too forceful, or intrusive. He'd worried that maybe he was putting her in an uncomfortable situation, but it seemed that she was happy to be here. Besides, if anyone knew her own mind it was Hermione Granger.

'Me too. Thanks, George.' She shuffled a bit closer, leaning into him as she worked on her paper chain. He realised what a long day it had been for her, with travelling here and everything. He could imagine how stressed out she'd been coming here, and he knew she must be exhausted. Seeing her relax like this was really lovely. Her curly hair brushed against his cheek, and her body felt warm and soft against his.

'Well, isn't this cosy? Didn't take you long to move on, did it?'


	21. Chapter 21

_Apologies for not getting this out sooner. Hope you enjoy it! DRAMA. More soon._

 _Also, although this is a NaNoWriMo project, I think I will continue it on into December. I think I will hit 50,000 before the story is complete, and I don't want to leave Hermione and George in the lurch!_

 _Thanks as ever for the support :)_

 _Disclaimer: Characters and world are Ms Rowling's._

 **Chapter 21 – Hermione**

'Well, isn't this cosy? Didn't take you long to move on, did it?'

Time seemed to freeze as Ron uttered those words, his voice filled with venom. Hermione saw the scene as he must see it – two couples cosied up by the fire, making Christmas decorations, like something off the front of a naff Christmas card. Hermione's head resting on George's shoulder, his whispered words to her…well, she knew what it looked like. She was ashamed of herself. She knew she shouldn't be. She knew Ron was still the bad guy here but, honestly. Of all the times he could have walked in. Why not earlier when she was setting the table with Ginny for dinner, or helping Molly in the kitchen, or any other more innocent moment? This moment had been innocent, her gestures nothing more than friendly…but my had they painted quite the pretty picture for Ron.

At the sound of his voice she had scooted away from George, and turned around. Her ex-boyfriend looked down at her with disgust. There had been many fights between the pair of them over the years, but he had never looked at her with such hatred before. He still had his coat on, clearly he had stormed right in here to find her. Typical Ron. Patience had never been his strong suit. The peace of the moments before seemed so distant now, like a whole other world. Now the air was thick with tension, with the expectancy of a fight looming over them. Ron was a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off. Maybe she could get him out of the room, maybe this fight didn't need to be a show for everyone. It was pretty late. She had thought by now that he wouldn't be coming today, that she could at least put this off until tomorrow. No such luck. She stood up, and stepped towards him. His eyes were hard, and his words cutting.

'Well, you didn't waste your time in finding a replacement.'

The contempt he had for her was ridiculous. She had done nothing wrong. She hadn't hurt him, she hadn't cheated on him. If anyone had the high ground here, it was her.

'That's not what this is Ron. You know that. And even if it was that, at least I would have had the grace to wait until we were broken up. Unlike yourself. Now, can't we talk somewhere more private?'

'Oh yeah, so cuddling my brother by the fire is nothing, huh? Please, Hermione. You've bagged a better Weasley and now you're here to flaunt it.'

'Ron, please. Let's just step outside.' Oh she had words for him, angry bitter words sharpened to a point over many weeks of heartbreak, but she didn't need her friends to hear them. This had been enough of a spectacle already.

'You're the one who came to my house, Hermione. Deal with it.'

Fine. If he wanted to do this here then, so be it. She was too angry to try and rationalise with him anymore. Besides, he never had responded to reason. If he wanted a fight, he sure as hell would get one.

'Okay, I will. We can do this right here, right now if that's how you want it.'

'Fine.'

'Fine.'

He stepped closer, looking down at her menacingly. She took a step forward herself, refusing to be intimidated. She wouldn't back down from this fight. She hadn't realised until this moment how much she had wanted to have this out too. He had picked the wrong witch to mess with. The others were all standing now, hovering cautiously. Harry stepped forward.

'Stay out of this, Harry.' Ron snapped. 'This is private.'

'Yeah, so don't make a show of it, Ron.'

Ron turned on Ginny, jabbing a finger at her.

'Shut up, Ginny. This is so typical. You're my sister, yet you're on her side. And as for you' he spun around to face George 'you engineered this whole thing to steal my girlfriend. Some fucking family you lot are.'

'Good evening!' Percy had walked into the room. The smile slid off his face as he looked from side to side, finding himself flanked by an angry Hermione and Ron. 'Um. Er.'

George took Ginny's arm, and left the room, beckoning Percy and Harry to follow. Hermione sighed with relief. This was awful as it was, having the others see it made it even worse. Ron's bitter words hung in the air. He was getting redder and redder in the face. He tugged off his scarf, tossing it aside.

'Ron.' Hermione's voice was sharp, and his gaze snapped back to her. 'I'm not with George, and he did not make you cheat on me. You cheated on me, you went behind my back. There was another woman, another women, I don't know. That's the bottom line here, okay?'

'He shouldn't have told you.'

'He shouldn't have had to.'

'You shouldn't have broken up with me.'

Hermione sighed heavily. She couldn't believe him. She put her hands on her hips, jutting out her chin. When she spoke, her voice dripped with sarcasm.

'Oh sure, sorry sweetheart. Should I have just been a good little girl and kept studying while you slept around? Or maybe I should have been having some fun myself at Hogwarts? Is that what I was meant to do? Did I miss the 'hey it's cool to snog Ernie MacMillan memo'?'

Ron choked. 'Ernie? You're doing Ernie?'

'Oh for Merlin's sake, Ron. You are completely missing the point.'

'Ernie?'

Merlin. He was so dense. This was about how he had neglected her, then cheated on her. This was about what he had done, not some stupid name she'd just thrown out there. She had only picked Ernie because they had so many meetings together. Of course that would be what Ron latched onto. He would try to flip this to make it sound like she was the one in the wrong.

'No. I just picked a name, okay? The only one doing someone they shouldn't be here is you.'

'You're completely overreacting here!'

'No I'm not. I trusted you, Ron. Hell, I even loved you. And you betrayed me.'

'But –'

'No, there are no ifs or buts about this. You broke my heart. And I hope you're fucking happy now.'

Ron actually stepped back, struck by the force of her words, or maybe just surprised that she swore. She didn't say another word, just glared at him defiantly. She wouldn't look away, she wouldn't concede him any victory, however small. Let him try to get out of this, she thought. He had caused her far too much pain for her to ignore this. There was no way she would let him make out that this was her fault, or that he hadn't been a total arsehole. No way.

'Come on, Hermione. Broke your heart…'

This hurt more than anything, the idea that he would deny that it had been love between them. That he would dismiss their relationship as some kind of school fling or something trivial. It had been so much more than that. After everything they'd been through. How could be so offhand about this?

'Yes, Ron. I loved you. You knew that. I thought you loved me too.'

'Well I…I…'

Emotions had never been his forte. She waited, arms crossed. She knew he was hoping she would jump in with more angry words so he could avoid this. She wouldn't play into his hands. If he didn't love her, well that was up to him, but he would have to say it. She wasn't afraid of admitting how she felt. She just wanted him to do the same.

'Look…' he tried again. He was clenching and unclenching his fists, breathing heavily. 'I just think you're making too big a deal of all this. I made a mistake.'

A mistake. Oh, this was so much more than some little error, some misstep.

'Oh so it was a singular event? A one time thing? Or did she bear a remarkable resemblance to me? Maybe you got confused?'

He sighed heavily, no longer meeting her eye. 'No.'

Her heart sank. The little part of her that had been hoping this was all maybe some kind of misunderstanding, the kind of bad timing that had just happened here, shattered. Yes, she had broken up with Ron. There had been no other option, really. But she had still thought maybe, just maybe, things could be smoothed over, that a Christmas reunion might be a possibility. Once more, she had been a fool. She pressed her lips together, fighting not to let her emotions take over.

'I thought so. Don't try to pin this on me. I let you break me, but I won't take the blame for the damage you caused.'

'Don't be so dramatic.'

'I'm not being dramatic, Ron.'

'You never gave me a chance to explain myself.'

'There's no explanation that could fix this. I was shattered, I still am. You cheated on me. End of.'

'Yet you came here. Can't have been that bad, then.'

'Yes, to be with my friends.'

'You knew I'd be here. You wanted to cause a scene.'

'Ron, I can't avoid you forever. Our lives are far too connected. And this scene would have happened anyway, sooner or later.'

'But in my home? Come on, Hermione. You're rubbing my face in it. Flaunting the breakup. Flirting with George. You're turning my own family against me.'

'I'm not flirting with George, okay? And your family can make up their own minds. Look, I've said what I need to say. We're done.'

She walked off, head held high. Ron didn't try to stop her. She wasn't sure if that was good or bad. She wasn't sure of anything right now. She had thought having this fight, saying the things she had been storing up in her mind, would be cathartic somehow. She had thought she would feel vindicated. Instead she felt deflated.

She let herself out into the garden, not wanting to face the others in the kitchen. She really wasn't able for conversation now. Things hadn't gone as planned, and she saw just how broken things were with Ron now. Their friendship was not something that could be salvaged. They were over in more ways than one.

She wandered across the lawn, until she got to the tree she would always think of as theirs, the spot where Ron had held her before she left for Hogwarts. She tried to hold onto the sweet words they had exchanged then, but the bitterness of tonight was too sharp. It was freezing outside, she had no coat on, but she still sat down at the base of the tree. It was dark here, cold and quiet. It was perfect. She needed to be alone.

The worst part was that she couldn't entirely dismiss Ron's words. It wasn't right for her to be here. She was turning the Weasleys against Ron, even though that hadn't been her plan. It wasn't fair. He should have some sanctuary here at home, and she had taken that from him. She didn't like this version of events, the one in which she was also at fault, but she couldn't deny it. Maybe she should have heard him out…no. She didn't need his excuses. Cheating was cheating. She didn't regret breaking up with him. But being here, maybe it was the wrong decision. Either way, she had to fix this somehow. Their conflict couldn't colour the entire holidays. The Weasley family had enough to cope with, and she didn't want everyone taking sides. This was between her and Ron, no-one else. Certainly not George. She would have to be more careful. They were just friends, but Ron always had been jealous, and once an idea took hold of him it could be near impossible to talk sense into him. She knew how hurtful it must be for Ron, he had always compared himself to his older brothers. Thinking Hermione was with George would be another sign to him of how he was second best. She thought of how horrible he became when he thought she fancied Harry. This was even closer to home, literally.

There would be no talking to him, so she would have to show him with her actions. Surely George would understand that. She hoped so. She had already lost one friend. She was here now, she wouldn't leave, but she would make this as painless as she could. Hopefully this blow up would be their last for the holidays anyway. She leaned back against the chilly bark, and let the tears she had held back during their confrontation flow freely. He was gone. He would never be hers again.


	22. Chapter 22

_Write to Me has reached 100 followers! I am chuffed! Thank you x 100 3_

 _Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the characters and world, FYI/ICYMI._

 **Chapter 22 – George**

It was some time before Hermione came back into the kitchen. Ron had stomped upstairs long ago. Harry had reluctantly followed. Hermione wasn't in the sitting room. Ginny wanted to go find her, but George reckoned she wanted to be on her own. It had been quite the scene, and she would probably want to clear her head. She knew where they were if she needed them. The words herself and Ron had exchanged, the ones he had heard anyway, had been very harsh. The breakup was still so fresh, no doubt this would have been upsetting for her. For Ron, too. George absolutely blamed Ron for this whole situation – Ron had been a bloody idiot to treat Hermione like this – but he knew his brother must be hurting too.

When Hermione drifted back into the house, she was shivering and her eyes were puffy and red. It seemed she hadn't cast any warming charms. She must have been completely overwhelmed. It was far too cold to be outside tonight, what had she been thinking? Just as George was about to ask he realised that she probably hadn't been thinking, that her heart had been ruling, not her head. He forgot that about her sometimes. He had always known her to be so logical, when she was impulsive it came as a total surprise. He rushed into the sitting room, bringing out a blanket for her. He moved to wrap it around her shoulders, but she stepped away, taking the blanket herself. She wore it like a cloak, and stood silently in the kitchen.

'Sit down there, Hermione. I'll make you some tea.'

She nodded mutely, and sat looking down at the tabletop. He worried that she might cry. He hoped she wouldn't. Not now. He was no use in situations like that. He was good for making cups of tea, but he wasn't so good with the comforting words. He didn't know what was appropriate here. Should he hug her? What do you say to your brother's ex-girlfriend? No, Hermione was his friend. He placed the steaming mug of tea in front of her. Again, she didn't meet his eye. Not a good sign. He rummaged in the kitchen drawers, and found some old receipts. There was a stash of ballpoint pens, Arthur Weasley was amazed by this Muggle invention ('So much easier to use than a quill. Ingenious!') George scribbled on the back of one. This seemed like a safer way to communicate, for both of them. He placed the piece of paper beside her arm with a pen and another receipt in case she wanted to reply, then busied himself tidying up the kitchen. He didn't want to watch her read.

 _I'm sorry if I made things worse for yourself & Ron. I realise we looked a bit couple-y. If you want to be alone, I'll go now. If you want a chat, or just the company, that's fine too. _

_G_

Having left her a few minutes and made himself a cup of tea, George moved back towards the table. There was a reply written beneath his note, unusually short for Hermione.

 _That's okay, not your fault. Please stay._

 _H_

She looked up at him with sad (but thankfully dry) eyes. He sat opposite her and they drank their tea silently. Ginny must have found their parents and explained what happened, because they had the kitchen completely to themselves for about half an hour. After a while, she moved to head upstairs. He wasn't surprised that she wanted an early night after all the drama. He held out his arms, and was glad when she stepped into his embrace instead of backing away as she had earlier.

'Goodnight, Hermione. Everything will be okay.' He knew how clichéd that was, but he did believe she could get through this. She was too strong not to.

She gave him a faint smile, then disappeared upstairs. He felt bad for pushing her to come to The Burrow now. He hadn't realised it would be quite this difficult. He also felt guilty for being so wholly on her side. Ron had fucked her over, yes, but George had already lost one brother. He didn't need to lose another.

The next day, there was no time for such contemplation. The house was a hive of activity as they prepared for the arrival of the rest of the family. Ginny had been up early to finish the decorating. Harry had lent a hand, but she had wisely decided not to continue with the disastrous group activity from yesterday. The place looked great, but Mum had them all cleaning nonetheless and preparing rooms. Bill and Charlie's old room would be Bill and Fleur's now. Molly had been astounded when George had suggested Charlie stay with him. She hadn't even broached the subject, but George felt it was the right thing to do. Charlie had stayed with them before anyway. He hadn't decided yet whether Charlie should have Fred's bed, or the camp bed as he would have before. He was trying not to overthink things. Hermione and Percy had been drafted in to help in the kitchen. Ron was off with Dad getting in more supplies, and Harry and Ginny were part of the cleaning crew with George. He doubted they were doing much cleaning, considering that he had already walked in on them snogging twice today. Well, at least some people were enjoying the holidays.

When Ron arrived back, George asked him to help in the garden. They had to clear the place of gnomes. There weren't many in the winter, but the stragglers were hardy. It was a good job for getting rid of anger, and George figured it would be the best time for a talk with Ron. Plus, no-one else would venture out in this cold weather for such an awful chore. Ron reluctantly agreed. He didn't really have a choice, George had made sure to suggest de-gnoming within earshot of their mum.

George lobbed a gnome over the fence, delighting in the squeaky shriek it let out.

'So, how's it going, mate?'

'Don't you bloody well 'mate' me, George.'

'Bro?'

Ron scoffed. 'Look, you've got Hermione now. Result. Happy?'

George actually felt sorry for Ron's gnome, such was the force at which it was sent hurtling through the air.

'Myself and Hermione are just friends, Ron. I swear.'

'Sure.'

George stepped in front of Ron, forcing his brother to look at him.

'I mean it. I promise you nothing has happened, and nothing will. I'm sorry about what happened yesterday though. And I'm sorry you two broke up.'

'Bullshit. You practically skipped off to tell her about Laura. Couldn't wait to get in there yourself.'

'She deserved to know, Ron. That's all. I wanted you to tell her, remember?'

Ron grunted, then swore as a gnome bit him. The gnome paid for it though, shooting through the air and landing with an audible splat on the other side.

'Nice one.'

'Cheers.'

'I didn't want things to turn out like this. And I don't think we should let it ruin Christmas. For Mum's sake.'

Ron sighed heavily. George knew it was an underhand move, but he couldn't bear to see Molly go through a Christmas marred with ugly spats like last night's. Something had to be done.

'Okay. For Christmas only though.'

George slapped his brother's back. 'Thanks Ron. And that Auror training is paying off. I sure as hell wouldn't want to be a gnome today.'

The look Ron gave him had George sure that he was exactly who the gnomes were being imagined as. He didn't feel so safe anymore.

'Also, er, if you want to chat, you know, I'm here. It's been a crap year all round and I know training is a lot.'

Ron gave him an odd look, but nodded. They rooted out the last few gnomes, and then returned to the blissful warmth of the house.

Fleur, Bill and Charlie arrived in the afternoon. There was a flurry of hugs and excitement, of cases (mainly Fleur's) and the house was filled with more laughter than there had been in a long time. It felt odd, doing things without Fred. George would think of a good joke, or a smart comment, and then realise his twin wasn't by his side. It never got less crushing. The concerned looks wore him down. There had been quite enough drama over the past couple of days, he didn't feel up to a heart-to-heart with any of the family. He tried to keep things light, to keep everyone occupied. As soon as a teary-eyed Fleur approached him, he remembered many urgent tasks he had to do. He knew that Fred's absence would catch up on him, that the sorrow would return with its now familiar heavy weight, but he was staying ahead of that moment for as long as he could. Being busy was the best strategy he had.

That evening, they gathered for a family dinner, their first since Bill and Fleur's wedding. He assumed there had been a family dinner around Fred's funeral, but George wouldn't have attended. He wouldn't have been able for it. Much of that time was a haze; he remembered only stark awful snapshots of it. The sheen of Fred's coffin and the sole face he saw reflected in it. He was used to seeing double. The weight of the coffin, the heft of it. The sorrow pressing down on him was that coffin, with him always. His mother weeping. His sister crumpling to the ground. His brothers' pale faces. Boom. Boom. Boom. Like a photo album of loss. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he blinked them away. Now was not the time. Now he had to pretend that Fred's absence beside him didn't feel like a vacuum, a hollow. He had carefully planned the seating with his mum, to avoid conflict. No Ron and Hermione together or facing each other. No Ron and George. No Ginny and Fleur. And so on. Hermione was beside him, and facing Ginny. Bill was across from George. Even in his panic, George noticed the odd expression on his brother's face. It wasn't grief it was…something else. However, he forgot this as the meal was served. Between his mother's delicious food, and trying to keep his emotions in check, George thought of little else. He wasn't really able to make conversation. He was just getting through. He was there, which was about all he could be at the moment.

After the main course had been vanished, Bill stood up. All eyes turned to him. George's stomach tightened, and his muscles tensed. _Please_ , he thought, _please don't let anything else go wrong_. Fleur stood beside him. George had the ludicrous thought that they may be divorcing, until they clasped hands.

'We have some news for you all.' Bill smiled at his wife.

'The news eez that Bill and I will be having a baby.'

Molly let out a delighted whoop, and rushed over to hug the couple. She was crying happy tears, and even kissed Fleur's cheek. Around George, the rest of the family burst into applause. The cheers sounded distant. He was vaguely aware of a hand on his arm, of words being whispered. This child, Bill and Fleur's child, would never know Fred. Fred would only be a story for it. Fred wouldn't have known about it, would never know it, would never be there.

The grip tightened on his arm. 'George.'

His vision cleared somewhat, and he turned to see Hermione gazing at him. 'You completely spaced out there, you're pale as a…' she stopped herself. 'Are you alright?'

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He couldn't believe this, but he also couldn't believe that he hadn't seen it coming. Thankfully, the commotion around the happy couple was such that his meltdown had only been noticed by Hermione. He should be happy. New baby, new life, new beginnings. But no. How could they carry on like this? How could they be so happy? Fleur beaming, with her hand on her still-flat stomach. Bill, proud with his arm around his wife. Such promise for the future. Such joy. Such hope. It was so wrong.

'George? You're worrying me.' Hermione's voice was panicked but low. 'Come on.'

He stood shakily. He had to get out of here. He couldn't be here, with this happiness, this joy. It was all so wrong. If he was here one minute longer he would say exactly what was on his mind, and there would be no going back from that. His chair screeched across the tiles, everyone looked at him. He turned and left the room without a word. As he was leaving he heard Hermione's voice.

'He's just a bit shocked. I'll go after him. Please, celebrate. This is wonderful news Bill and Fleur. Congratulations.'

He was almost out the door when he heard her footsteps behind him, her short breaths as she rushed to catch up with him.

She grasped his arm. 'George, please.'

He shook her hand off. There weren't words for this, this was just a crashing, crushing wave of emotion.

'George, wait.'

He strode on, even though she had to jog to keep up she kept pace with him, and she was there when he sunk to his knees on the ground outside, when he finally broke down.


	23. Chapter 23

_A long one today! Drama! Hope you enjoy it._

 _Disclaimer: Character and world are JK Rowling's, not mine._

 **Chapter 23 – Hermione**

George sank to his knees before her, letting out a choked sob. Hermione felt tears come to her own eyes. She gingerly knelt beside him, unsure as to whether or not she should be here. This moment was so private, so painful…she felt like an intruder. She wasn't sure he would want her to see him like this. His body shuddered with sobs, and he was hunched over, curled in on himself. She didn't dare breathe, she didn't want to disturb him, didn't want to startle him with her presence. She wasn't sure he was even aware she was there. She felt she shouldn't be here, but to get up and leave would to be to abandon him. The thought of him out here alone was too terrible. She reached out toward him, as cautious as she would be approaching a beast. This George was an unknown quantity, his grief wild and frightening. She did not know how he would react. To her surprise, when her hand rested on his arm, something in him seemed to still.

He lifted his face from his hands and looked at her. His expression tore the breath out of her, and she didn't think anymore, just gathered him to her and held him as he cried. She cried too – for all they had lost, for everyone left behind, for all they had been through, and all they had yet to face. She cried for his pain, his courage, for him. Her tears were silent, trickling down her cheeks and onto him, a steady rain. His were a hurricane, a tornado, a storm of emotion. She would wait out this storm with him, the only way out was through. As his sobs became quiet and soft, he rubbed his back – it seemed natural to be here somehow, it felt right. And when he sat up straight and looked her straight in the eye – he seemed more like himself. She took his hand in both of hers, not ready to break their connection yet. He looked at her, looking so lost that her heart ached.

'Fred's gone.'

'Yes.'

'Gone for good.'

'Yes.'

'He's not coming back.'

'No, he's not.'

'And Bill and Fleur are having a baby.'

''They are.'

'That's good.'

'Yeah?''

'Yeah.' He nodded. His voice was hoarse from the sobbing. 'It's shit though, that this baby will never know Fred. Fred will only ever be a story to this baby.'

'It's awful. Like poor Teddy Lupin.'

Harry's godson Teddy, robbed of both his parents in the war, always tugged at Hermione's heartstrings. Still, just as baby Teddy was lucky to have his grandparents and Harry, this little baby would be doted on by the whole Weasley clan, and by the Delacours too.

'New things happening are tough, right?' She didn't give him time to respond. 'But we will keep remembering Fred. You can teach their baby lots of pranks.'

'Fleur will love that.' His weak smile seemed like a miracle, like a rainbow. It seemed to her like a sign that things would be okay. He would make it through this. After a few minutes they got to their feet, and made their way back to the house.

'Why don't you head upstairs, George? I'll make your excuses, and you can congratulate Bill and Fleur at breakfast tomorrow.'

She wasn't giving him an option there. He would wish them well, this baby should be celebrated. His family needed all the good news they could get.

George nodded, worn out from the shock and emotion. 'Thanks, Hermione. For that,' he waved a hand in the direction of the door 'and for everything, really. I can't tell you how much it means.'

'I just wish I could do more.' Seeing him hurt like this was awful. She wished there was a way she could make it okay, or could help him get better. His pain just seemed so big and unconquerable.

'You do plenty.' He took her hands in his, and kissed her forehead softly. 'Night.'

She watched him walk upstairs, heard his door closing. She steadied herself, and returned to the kitchen, where his concerned family were waiting. She told them he was okay and tired, that he was getting an early night. She refused to elaborate, she didn't think George would want them to know the things he had said. She soothed a worried Bill and Fleur's concerns that they shouldn't have made the announcement, telling them George was happy for them, it was just a rough time for him. She felt it was wrong to talk about George when he wasn't here, it seemed disloyal. Ron gave her a nod, and she understood that he saw what she was doing, and respected it. She knew that the family (particularly Molly) were anxious about George, but he still deserved his privacy. Besides, they should be happy about Bill and Fleur's announcement. Ginny noticed Hermione's struggle to avoid talking about George and stepped in.

'So Fleur, what names were you thinking of for the baby?'

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as a spirited discussion of names in the Weasley and Delacour families took off, and everyone was distracted. She mouthed a thank you to Ginny. Hermione got an early night too, she was exhausted from the evening, and worry about George was wearing her down. As she lay in bed she tossed and turned thinking about him, thinking about how much he was struggling. At times like this she wished there was some way of gathering all the people she loved together, wrapping them up safe from hurt and harm. She wished life could work like that.

The next morning, Hermione came downstairs to find George having breakfast with Bill and Fleur. He was asking about the baby and Fleur's family's reaction. For all he had been through, he still had such a good heart. This wasn't easy for him, she knew that, but it would mean a lot to Bill and Fleur. Molly came up beside her, watching the group in the kitchen.

'He's a good man.' She said softly, careful not to let her voice carry.

Hermione 'hmm'-ed in response.

'And your friendship has helped him so much, dear. I didn't think I could see him so well again.'

Hermione wasn't sure George was as well as he was letting on, but she liked to think she had helped. He had certainly helped her.

'I hope so. I want to see him get better.'

Molly patted her shoulder, then headed into the kitchen and joined the others at the table. Hermione followed, and George's face lit up with a bright smile. She couldn't help but grin back. He was wearing another of his Christmas jumpers, and he looked a lot better than he had last night, terrible fashion choices aside. This jumper had a garish headache-inducing pattern of snowflakes. It was kind of mesmerizing, actually.

'My eyes are up here, Granger.'

Bill and George laughed at her red face. Fleur hushed them, with a dismissive 'Boys, please' and gestured for Hermione to sit beside her. Perhaps because she had relaxed a bit, Fleur seemed to fit in a lot better in the Weasley household now. Her love for Bill was obvious, and staying with him after the werewolf attack had certainly won Molly Weasley over. The scars had not stopped Bill from being very attractive, but Fleur had certainly proven herself during that awful time. Hermione had always been impressed by her bravery and intelligence, she was a worthy champion for Beauxbatons in the Triwizard tournament. She had been jealous of Fleur before, with Ron being so susceptible to her charms, but getting to know Fleur had assuaged that. Fleur could be haughty, yes, but beneath it all she was brave, loyal and passionate.

Gradually, the rest of the Weasleys joined them for a breakfast that rivalled the Great Hall's noise levels. It was good to have everyone together. As it was Christmas Eve, everyone was off work and there was such a relaxed atmosphere in the house. Bill and Fleur's good news had given everyone a much needed boost, and while Hermione was avoiding Ron as much as she good, it seemed that all arguments had been suspended for the holidays. It was a weight off everyone's shoulders, and Hermione was so thankful for the lightness and cheer. The Burrow felt like home again.

The Christmas holidays went by too quickly. As the start of the new term at Hogwarts came closer and closer, the holidays took on a warm glow in Hermione's mind. Everything was a hazy blur of warm fires, badly sung carols and endless amounts of food. Molly Weasley had outdone herself. She had knitted Weasley jumpers as usual, even for their guests. Hermione's heart almost broke seeing the quiver in Molly's lip as the 'F' jumper this year was for Fleur, not Fred. Fleur hugged Molly tightly, thanking her profusely. She immediately put on the pale blue jumper with the white initial on it. Of course, with her Veela genes, she looked stunning, but it was hard to imagine the Fleur of a few years ago willingly wearing a big wooly jumper. It made Molly's day, especially seeing as Fleur kept exclaiming about how cosy and warm it was. Hermione agreed, it was like wearing a hug. She wore her own jumper (in the Gryffindor colours) with pride. George gave Hermione a scarf, one he had knitted himself. It was very uneven and lumpy.

'Mabel tells me this style is all the rage now, she'd know.'

Hermione laughed, and wrapped the scarf around her neck. 'I'll be a real trendsetter back at school.'

She had given George a supply of Honeydukes' best chocolate. For Ginny, Hermione got a biography of Gwenog Jones, Beater and Captain of the Holyhead Harpies, Ginny's favourite Quidditch team. Hermione had high hopes that her friend would soon be joining their ranks. She had given Harry Quidditch gloves, which Ginny helped her pick out. After much deliberation, she did give Ron his present, a Chudley Cannons scarf. He thanked her, and gave her a beautiful hardback diary. That exchange was perhaps the saddest moment of the holidays for her. She really hoped they could still be friends. She missed him so much, and in that moment she had a real sense of just how much she had lost. They hugged, the quickest embrace, and she wanted to take back all the hurt and harsh words and sink into his arms.

The Christmas dinner, prepared by Molly Weasley with assistance from Hermione, Fleur, Bill and Percy (deemed the safest helpers) was probably the most delicious thing Hermione had ever eaten. Even thinking about it made her mouth water. After dinner, they sat down to listen to Celestina Warbeck's Christmas show. Even Fleur did not mock it this time, and they all shed a few tears during the sad songs.

A brief visit from Andromeda Tonks with baby Teddy lifted their spirits though. Harry was such a natural with his godson, and had the baby chortling and gurgling. Teddy had inherited his mother's Metamorphmagus abilities, and his hair rapidly changed colours. He had a new habit of mimicking the hair of whoever held him, so he was duly passed about the room like a new toy. His hair went from messy jet black, to sleek platinum, to Weasley red, to curly chestnut. Molly and Andromeda cried together, and Charlie (who had been friends with Tonks in school) also chatted with them. It had been an emotional day, and Hermione was quite glad when it was all over.

The rest of the break had been more low key, and she was glad that it had been restful. Getting out of the castle had been good for her, even if facing Ron and helping George had been difficult. Herself and Ginny were due back in Hogwarts on January 2nd, so they still had some time after Christmas to chill out. Ginny wanted to spend as much time as possible with Harry, so at times Hermione found herself at a loose end. She really did miss Ron, and she reckoned he missed her company too. As promised, she met with Neville and Hannah, and was delighted to hear that their Christmas was a success. Neville's grandmother was notoriously hard to please, but against all odds she had taken to Hannah.

George was around of course, but Hermione was unsure of herself around him. Not just with everything they both had been through over the past while, but the more she thought about it, the more she saw things from Ron's point of view. She was getting very close with George, it would seem like she was replacing Ron with his brother. But it wasn't like that. She cared deeply for George, of course, but not in the same way that she did for Ron. Still, when she looked back over the past few months, she couldn't help but be a bit disappointed in herself.

Writing to George, opening up to him in a way she didn't with Ron…that wasn't fair. Yes, Ron had cheated on her and that was awful…but maybe she hadn't been fully loyal herself. It was an uncomfortable revelation. She had been so righteous before, so sure she had been the one who had been wronged. Now she saw it wasn't quite as black and white as that. She knew George could tell she was avoiding him a bit, but she had to work this out. She really needed to get Ginny on her own to talk it out…but Ginny and Harry were pretty inseparable at the moment. Besides, talking to Ginny about guys was one thing, but when those guys were her brothers…maybe it wasn't the best idea after all. She really had made a mess of this.


	24. Chapter 24

I've just finished tomorrow's chapter, with it I passed the 50,000 mark - so I have completed NaNoWriMo. Yay!

I'll be taking a bit of a break from the story after chapter 25, but I will finish it. Thanks to everyone who has been following and reading. You are wonderful :)

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the characters and the wizarding world (surprise!)

 **Chapter 24 – George**

George realised Hermione had been avoiding him. It was hard to avoid someone in The Burrow, but she was quite skilled at it. She engineered it so they weren't sitting beside each other at any meal, weren't doing any chores together, basically they weren't together at all, ever. It hurt. He had become more dependent on her than he had realised. She had become his go-to person, his confidante. In fact, Hermione was the best friend he had at the moment. He realised not that it probably wasn't mutual. He understood that she needed her space and he would respect that. She was in a very difficult situation here, and he suspected that their closeness had made things more challenging for her.

Ron was very suspicious of the two of them, and honestly his jealousy wasn't without basis. They had become very close, looking back on the past few days George registered that there had been a lot of tearful clutching at one another. There had been a lot of hugging and confiding. A lot of emotion. After everything they had been through, it was hard not to feel a connection to her. He wasn't sure how deep the connection was, it seemed such an abstract thing, conducted as it usually was through letters. He didn't know how they related in the real world, as it were. But he knew she was going back to Hogwarts, and he knew he needed to move on with his life. He had made some small steps towards doing that, and he needed to keep moving forward.

He had written to Angelina, Lee and Alicia. He was ready to meet up with them now. It would be painful, but it was the right thing to do. He really did miss them. Fred wouldn't want him to lose those friendships. He wondered if it would always be like this, if he would filter his every thought and decision through George. Now he was in this cycle, bouncing his ideas off his memories of his twin. He was still trying to be part of Fred-and-George, even though that was no longer possible.

They had a quiet, close Christmastime at The Burrow. It was restful, and he felt the warmth and love of his family surrounding him. New Year's would be another party, but also another struggle. He felt it was yet another way in which they were leaving Fred behind. Another loss. 1999. A whole new year. A year in which Fred would never exist. Life felt like a long process of cutting ties to his twin now, and he hated it. He didn't think he could be George without Fred. He sat there, looking into the fire, and feeling the weight of the loss.

'Hey, how are you doing, mate?'

Bill sat down beside him, his forehead furrowed in that way that was so familiar to George now. He thought of it as people's 'talking to George' expression. He shrugged in response to Bill's question. There was no point pretending he was doing well. It was quite clear that he wasn't.

'You know, I've been thinking.'

'Yeah?' George was weary of people's ideas of what he should be doing, how he could get better, but Bill was sound and hopefully wouldn't tell him to meditate or try smiling more.

'I think you should make a list of things you want to do next year.'

'Seriously?'

'Yes. Look. It's going to be next year soon. I know you don't want it to be, but we can't stop it. I think you should look at it as a new start. You've been getting back to your feet lately, and that's really great. I want you to keep that going.'

'I know.' You learn how to knit, and suddenly everyone thinks you're all fixed. He knew that wasn't what Bill meant but, it wasn't that simple.

'You'll think about it?'

'Yeah.'

'Any ideas?'

George laughed. 'You didn't give me much thinking time.'

'Well?'

'I guess I've been thinking about the shop.'

'Yeah?'

'I need to decide if I want to open it up again. It wouldn't be the same without Fred, but it's a shame to let it go. We had plans.'

'I think Fred would love you to keep going with the shop, you were both so excited about it.'

'Yeah' Ginny had come into the sitting room. 'Remember those hideous suits?'

'They were very fashionable, Gin.'

'Whatever you want to believe, George.'

He gave her the finger, and she laughed.

He wondered about the shop. He couldn't do it alone. It was pretty big now. Maybe Lee would be interested? Or maybe someone from the family?

As the New Year approached, they all seemed to retreat into themselves a bit, thinking about the year ahead and what they wished for. It had been such an awful year, yet moving on was mixed for all of them. It was tinged with both sadness and hope. There was the pain of Fred's loss, yet the excitement about the new baby. The sorrow of leaving things behind, yet the hope that came with a fresh start. There was a sense of an ending – the ending of a year that had brought such sadness, such danger, such pain. Also the ending of the holidays, Hermione and Ginny had to go back to school, Harry and Ron back to training, Bill and Fleur back to France, Charlie back to Romania, Arthur and Percy back to work.

For the past few years Fred and George had put on a fireworks show on New Year's Eve, each one bigger and bolder than the last. The Weasleys loved it, even though their mum tutted about their more ostentatious and dangerous stunts. And then there had been the incident with the scarecrows, but they didn't talk about that...This year George had decided he would keep up the tradition. It was the first time he had felt strong enough to do something they used to do together. He hadn't played Quidditch, hadn't been near the shop, hadn't hung out with their friends. Doing something that was usually a Fred-and-George show on his own was poignant, but it felt good too. He was glad to be keeping their traditions alive. Charlie had offered to help, and he had hesitatingly accepted. He soon saw it had been a mistake not to involve Charlie before. After all, he was something of a fire expert after his many years working with dragons. They had no new fireworks, as George hadn't been inventing, but they had a plentiful supply of Catherine Wheels and Weasleys' Wildfire Whizzbangs. For the big finale they had a giant crackling dragon firework. It would be brilliant, he could just see it now.

The New Year's Eve party would be big. They always kept Christmas for the family, but had lots of friends over for this big party to usher in the coming year. It was a boisterous affair, with plenty of music and laughter, and more than a dash of Firewhiskey. This year it would be a more subdued affair, but they were still having it. It seemed more important than ever to gather with loved ones, to remember and celebrate. Andromeda and Ted would be there with baby Teddy, Neville Longbottom, Hannah Abbott, Luna Lovegood, Hagrid, Kingsley Shacklebolt, colleagues from various Weasleys' workplaces...after some consideration George had invited Angelina, Alicia and Lee. They had all accepted, and he was surprised by how relieved he was. He was lucky to still have them as friends after spending so much time pushing them all away. Having everyone together might make it an easier night. George was feeling a bit more hopeful now. As Bill had suggested, he was thinking about next year. He knew he couldn't grieve forever, knew he couldn't stay holed up at home forever. He had to move on, he had known that for a while, but for the first time he was feeling like he actually wanted to.

Lately, he had found himself thinking about the shop again. They had put so much work into it, built it up into something they were really proud of. To abandon it now seemed like such a waste. It was their dream. For a long time he didn't think their dream could be his dream, but maybe it could. Reopening the shop would be a way of keeping Fred's legacy alive, and he thought the world was badly in need of some fun. There were still plenty of products they hadn't quite perfected before they had to close, and he had even had some new ideas himself recently. Maybe it was time to think about getting back on track. Their mission in opening the shop had been to bring more laughter into the world, and to manage more mischief, and George still saw the value in that. At his darkest moments it had all seemed stupid and pointless, frivolous and meaningless, but if there was anything he'd learned from the wizarding war it was that they needed all the joy they could get. Also, the shop had always been so fun. He missed creating things, even sketching out a few ideas that morning had made him feel a bit better. He felt more like himself.

He wanted to talk to Hermione about his plans, about the sense of purpose he could feel slowly coming back to him. He thought that she, of all people, would get it. She seemed distant though, seemed lost in thought. He wondered what her plans for the new year were. He knew from her letters that she was still feeling uncertain about the future and what she should do after Hogwarts. She was so incredible. He knew she could do anything she put her mind to, he had no doubt that she would do great things. It seemed she was doubting herself though, and he didn't know how to help her with that. The old Hermione was always impatient for the end of the holidays, eager to get back to school and study. This Hermione seemed to be dreading it. It made him sad to see her like this, instead of her usual ambitious self.

He was worried about her. The temptation to write her a letter, or to corner her for a chat was strong, but he was respecting her boundaries. If she needed space, he would give her just that. He was aware of how their relationship had shifted, he was worried he had crossed a line with that kiss on her forehead. It had been totally impulsive, he had just been so affected by her kindness that night. Maybe she had thought it was something more than that, maybe it had been inappropriate. Even without that, she was in a tense situation here. Thankfully she hadn't had any more clashes with Ron over the break.

He had even gone to Ginny to find out how Hermione was doing. It felt odd not to know what was going on in Hermione's head. It was strange how you could get so accustomed to someone's presence. He felt the loss of their closeness keenly, which was ridiculous given that they were in the same house.

'I don't know, she's quiet.'

'She's not talking to you?'

'Come on, George. It's so busy here, it's not like there's much of a chance for deep meaningful conversations.'

'But she hasn't said anything's wrong?'

'I'd say she's missing her parents. It's tough for her, you know. Being away from them for the holidays. And she feels guilty for what she did, even though she did it to save them.'

'It's complicated.'

'Yeah.'

'Yeah.'

'How's Harry doing?'

'Complicated' Ginny gave a wry smile, and suddenly looked far too wise for her years 'Aren't we all, these days?'

When they came downstairs, they saw Hermione, Ron and Harry deep in conversation. Hermione looked very serious, but they all seemed surprisingly calm. Ginny was as nonplussed as George. Hermione spotted them, and beckoned them into the living room too. They sat down. The atmosphere was tense. George hoped there wasn't another fight brewing.

'I was just telling Ron and Harry that I'm going to Australia.'

'In the new year?'

'No, now.'

'Now?'

'Well, in about half an hour.'

'But-'

'I've been planning for a long time. I have the permits, I have done plenty of research and I'm pretty sure I know where my parents are. I've left this for too long.'

'But now?' Ginny asked 'Isn't this a bit impulsive? Maybe you'd be better to wait until you had more time, or until a group of us could travel over…'

'Don't even try to talk her out of it, Gin.' Harry smiled at Hermione 'Once Hermione has her mind set on something there's no stopping her.'

'And we've both offered to go with her' Ron interjected 'she's having none of it.'

Hermione sighed. George guessed this conversation had been going on for some time before himself and Ginny joined in. No doubt Harry and Ron had made many objections and tried to talk her out of it.

'This is something I've got to do myself. I hope you all understand that. I should be back in time for school' she said to Ginny 'I'm going to tell your mum now, and thank her for having me.'

She left the room, and they all looked at each other, still taking it all in. Harry and Ron had accepted it, they didn't seem too surprised. He supposed they knew her well. Ginny was still coming up with arguments, but it was pointless. Hermione was doing this, there was no point even trying to stop her.


End file.
